Heartlines
by winterminch
Summary: Building weapons? Fine, that's what she was there for. Building them for her teammates? Okay, all is fair in love and war. Her teammates being giant, robotic organisms? Not so down to Earth anymore. Coming to actually love a perky, yellow Autobot? Different. Decepticons on Earth's shores? She wasn't afraid. In fact, she would never be afraid of her fate again. T. Bee/OC.
1. LISTS

**HEARTLINES  
**youknowitsmsrae

* * *

_A/N: Hello everyone! Yes, I know, another story. Everyone who is waiting for me to update the others are probably banging their heads against a brick wall, screaming WHY SUMMER WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS. And yes, btw, my name is Summer, and I'm very happy and pleased to meet you. Welcome to my new little child: Heartlines, title based after the wonderful song by Florence + the Machine. It fits with the story further down the road._

_I originally wrote 3 chapters of this sucker a long time ago, before I had any idea what detail and plot was, and even 3rd person, which now I just can't stop doing. But, alas, I had deleted it from my FF page, just not my personal archives. Now, I've changed a bit, and this is the, as they say 'pilot' chapter._

_In case it was missed, yes, this is a Bumblebee/OC. No, my OC is most absolutely not a Mary Sue, nor do I plan on making her one. And yes, there will be great love and detail for my Bee. I will smoosh his face one day. I will. Just watch me._

_Finally: I hope you enjoy, and if you'd like, leave a review! I never force it on, because I know I hate that, but it would be nice to hear some suggestions and/or likes/complaints!_

_Enjoy!_

_- Summer_

* * *

**CHAPTER I. LISTS  
**[0600 hours]

* * *

Lists.

To keep it organized, her life somehow always consisted entirely of many different kinds of _lists_.

Now, there were her average, every day ones that she doubted would ever change. Example: her morning routine of forcing herself into actually waking up, then _getting _up at the crack of dawn, putting on decent clothing, applying and fixing any cosmetics or toiletries that were needed for her current exhausted bodily functions to run smoothly, taking care of the dog, following up on the news, and then (one of her favorite parts of it all) finally diving into that wonderful, wonderful thing known as breakfast.

There were, however, a plentiful amount of other kinds of lists that ruled her existence as well. Not, to say, that she minded them. In her honest opinion, it gave her a clear head, a sturdy ground to trot along if she so pleased.

Speaking of trotting -

"_Ack - '_morning, Max." She yawned obnoxiously down to the very perky German Shepherd that patted around her feet, tail wagging like a band metronome. Back and forth, back and forth, back, forth, to, from. Almost, as if to say: _good morning, hello, hi there, my person, yes, hello, hi, hello, I missed you while you slept! _But, the female was quite clueless, or just ignoring, of this silent greeting. Instead, her left eye was twitching into a squint as she stretched one arm high above her head, the other at her face, fingers picking at sleep in her eyes. When they were free from their other duties, her hands dug through the mass of hair that was once called a 'rat's favorite kind of nest' by her elder siblings.

She shuffled like a zombie into the apartment kitchen.

While her dog happily did circles around the island in the middle of the room (because: _yay, my person is finally awake! Can we play? Is it play time?_), she grabbed a box of half-gone bland cereal, the entire milk carton from the fridge, and picked around for a plastic spoon from the little red box she'd bought from the local supermarket the other day. Leaning against the counter top softly, her elbows landing on the wood, she winced just a little as normal when her right shoulder cracked under the her muscle almost ceremonially. She couldn't remember a morning since her little incident in Iraq that her shoulder _didn't_ pop, so she was quite used to it.

Still too tired to notice that Max the German Shepherd was sneakily leaning his head up against the counter to try and lick up the bowl of breakfast she poured, her fingers outstretched for the remote to the TV across the room, clicking it on by pressing the little red, rubber circle. A wave of static from the television that had a back so deep the ocean was jealous, sprung to life with a flicker. Taking her spoon when the hum turned to familiar speaking, she began to blindingly eat, hand scanning the channels as she chewed.

It was still extremely dark; the sun was not up, and she hadn't turned on any lights. Not to mention is was only 6:00 in the morning.

Coming in at list number 2: TV. First the news (always the news), then TBS, followed by ABC, and ending with FX.

"...killed last week in a freak accident in Egypt - _20 dollars? For that? You've gotta be kidding me_ - I'll never let go, Jack - _I am Iron Man_ -"_  
_

Just as Tony Stark unveiled his super-secret identity to the entire world in a press conference for the comic book books, the classic-looking 90's phone with a spiral chord and everything upon a cabinet next to the female rang off like a fire warning bell. It scared her so much her tense elbow knocked the already-close-to-the-edge bowl of cereal over. It's murky contents spilled all over the more than happy paws of Maxwell, who sat in the puddle forming, licking himself and the floor clean with his teeth showing in a way that only dogs could do. The bowl teetered around and around in circles, mocking her.

Snagging the ringer from the wall with an angry snarl at herself for making such a mess, she immediately started grabbing at wads of paper towels, rolling them up into a ball. Tucking the phone receiver under her ear, pressing it into her shoulder, again, she winced when it, her shoulder blade, cracked in it's place.

"_Son _of a mother trucking wooden _paddle-battle_ - this is Skylar Rosette speaking, how can I help you at 6 in the _freaking_ morning?" She finally huffed out through her teeth, starting with the granite counter, continuing to wipe down the mahogany floor-cabinets. She had shooed Max with her hand before answering, who had tucked his ears back, but did as told and stopped his own form of 'cleaning'. She grabbed the fallen spoon, clutching it between her fingers as the person on the other end finally spoke.

"_A very good morning to you too, Private Rosette_," her hand stopped the ministrations she was giving the floor, and she held her breath just under her ribs. Her eyes had turned to saucers. Had she _really _just had a early-bird tantrum on the phone, in front of the officer who had much higher ranking than her? Fan_-tastic_; he wouldn't let that one go for the next _month_, "_and I will also overlook your extremely amusing omit to inform you - before Commander Boot gets his fingers on you, that is - that you're being transferred_."

The spoon clutched between her fingers clanked on the floor, startling Max to peak around the corner from where he had been hiding. Truthfully and loyally, he had been waiting for his mistress to come and wash his underside where he had gotten dairy product on his fur. But now, his ears were still tucked back, yet his eyes read: _are you okay, my person? _

As much as it was a clear gesture for her to perk up when he crawled over and put his head on her knee, she was not okay, and her heart picked up speed and rocketed into her throat. Her pulse pounded in her wrists and neck. She could feel it course through her when his words sunk in.

Transferred.

"_T-transferred_?" The word was foreign on her tongue, and it didn't taste or feel right either. She had to take a seat against the wall, hesitantly sliding down onto her butt. Maxwell scooted even closer, giving her a concerned puppy face. "I ca - I mean, to _who_? To what sector? When? _Why?_"

The voice on the other end, a very familiar and equally friendly voice, was implying a classic smile, but he held had the air of depression in his tone. This was the voice of Staff Sargent Brian Martin, a very strong built, loyal military officer who had an unconditionally family-like soft spot for the young woman he spoke with.

"_Yes, transferred_." He repeated, baritone hum of his vocals striking her through the heart like a sharpened knife. How could this _be? _Had she done something wrong? Was she going to be _released?_ It horrified her, the answer to any and_ all_ of those. Private Rosette had opened her mouth to ask all these questions in a rush, but before she could get even a choke out, he had cut in: "_Also, before you start bombing me with inquiries, it was extremely unclear in the debriefing just where you will be going, however wherever your ass is being shipped, it's highly classified_."

_Highly classified._

A small flame of hope bit away at her chest, even if it was smaller than her sudden fear for her job. Classified meant she wasn't being released from the army, at the very least. That would absolutely break her heart. She loved her job; she loved fighting for her country, for herself. Working with weaponry. But she could be moving down. She could be moving to the battle-zone. She could be moving halfway across the world. Undercover. Solo mission. _Suicide_ mission.

"_How_ classified?"

He wasn't quick to respond, and his voice took down a few notches when he finally did hand over his words. Briefly, she could hear something in the background - like a scream of metal, and a couple gun shots. She took a guess that he was where he always was - training petty recruits like she used to be. When he finally did answer her question (all of the milk on the floor just about cleaned up), he sounded very liquid in details.

"_Ah - er, well, as in the entire page was one big inverted white-out page. That kind of classified_."

Max took off when she was done clearing his belly with a wet rag, and made a bolt for the bathroom. Leaning against the counter top once more, breakfast completely pushed out of her mind, she even took it upon herself to turn off the TV. Two lists right there, ripped to shreds in front of her eyes and completely forgotten in the wake of this dawn's change. As she waited for more information, because she wouldn't let him hang up without it, her eyes shook nervously in the dark. She had faith that Staff Sargent wouldn't just give her that smidgen of data and leave her hanging, and he didn't disappoint either, handing out more secrets.

"_It is under my belief that you will be sent out as soon as return to base. For some reason, you're needed somewhere else_."

There was an uncomfortable silence as she drunk that in. So she was going to be given the honor of an _immediate _change, but for what? Because she was _wanted_? A part of her that wasn't freaking out in nervous little flexes wondered what exactly for; sure, she was exceedingly skilled at her primary goal-job, but she never had shown the military anything _else_ she could do. This was irritating and strange and she didn't like it.

In the words of a wise woman from a TV show she once watched:_ change makes me itch._

"_Rosette? You still breathing?_"

"Uh," She cleared her throat, shaking her head away from the thoughts of Abby and Gibbs, and forced herself to flutter back to the present. "I mean, _yes_, sorry, it's just, I'm - I mean - shocking." She chuckled a little, with no humor, tucking a hand under her arm almost self-consciously. Eyebrows pinching together on her forehead, her breath left in a sad little puff of air. Somewhere far off, she could hear Max's toenails on tile, clicking repeatedly, as if he was looking for something. "It's just that I've been with this branch for so long -"

"_And it would be unwise to mope over it, and instead embrace the new adventure you'll be enduring all on your own_." He reminded her softly, hesitantly, _cautiously. _He knew, even over the phone, it was never extremely wise to get the woman worked up, and she was already a lit fuse. Turning around to face the clock on the stove with her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, she shook her head once at how _frustrating _this entire situation was, and began the short walk back to her room. Switching phones to the chord-less, she hung the first up and clicked the second one on.

"You're making this sound like a picnic, Brainy." She admitted to him, using a tremendously secret little nickname for her friend, fingers trailing the blank wall of the hallway absentmindedly. She didn't have pictures hanging up, no paintings or family air looms. Just a while wall. In fact, the entire apartment held very little color, minus a reoccurring theme of black, white, a couple red flowers in a vase above the TV. Other than that, not even pictures cluttered the fireplace mantel. Just a wooden clock that ticked at the same beat as her heart, that, had slowed down entirely. Now, it just pooled in her stomach in a disgustingly sick way.

There was a sigh on the other end. Alas, it was not just _any _sigh. She knew that exhale to be his '_but' _sigh. He was giving her a chance to revise her words and try to see the optimistic side before he corrected her. In her opinion, there was nothing more embarrassing to be told by a commanding (friend) officer that you should stop with your whine-fest.

Therefore, through clenched teeth, as she entered her bedroom:

"However, I am _honored_ that, for some reason, I am needed somewhere other than my comfort zone." She lied smoothly, sliding on over to her dresser. Ms. Skylar Rosette began to paw for the proper clothing, as wide awake as she would ever be. In the end, she picked out something sneakily easy: a free-moving pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, as always. Flinging them on as quickly as she possibly could, she struggled to find the correct words as she stripped and switched attire. "I've gotta be doing something right, huh, haven't I?"

He only responded when she had grabbed her unlaced boots, and set them next to the bathroom door to find -

"_Well, Rosette, i__t might have to do with the fact that you're the damn best techni_ -"

She gasped, grabbing her dog by the collar at his antics.

"Maxwell Rosette, get your head out of the toilet right now!" She pushed his butt in the way of the bathroom door, and yet, he simply just barked over at her repeatedly, as if this was a game, and as _if_ he didn't mind her scolding. If she could read his mind, which she very well _couldn't,_ she would understand that he was just trying to get her attention like any loving dog would. He knew his person wasn't in a very good mood to start their day, and a game of fetch could make just about anyone happy, could it? From this action, and how his tail still whipped back and forth, Ms. Rosette gave the ceiling an amused stare, grabbing her brush.

Only until her shoulder made a very awkward noise as the way she holding the phone between her head and blade, did she remember past the morning dreariness that she was, indeed, still on the phone.

"My apologies, Staff Sargent." She quickly rushed out to make up for her actions, both before finding her dog's head in the porcelain, and after. She hoped he understood that she truthfully meant _both, _and that she was somewhat proud to be wanted somewhere - that her _name _was being heard and thought of fondly somewhere. Still, she was discomforted by the thought of moving away from the friends, her family that she had made on the Team she vacated, and would be more homesick than anything else with where she would be going. Quietly as possible, she continued roaming the comb through the tangles of black hair. In the mirror, her murky green eyes were sharp as they glared back her, eyelashes hidden in the little freckles all over her face.

She breathed sharply once.

"I'm just not friendly to change."

There was a gentle laugh on the other side, and she could almost feel him clap her on the back and give a squeeze through the phone. If she had been there, it would be what he would have done. Her eyes burned, but she ignored it.

"_Don't act so uptight about it, Skylar._" She was so briefly shocked, slightly taken aback and abashed even, that Staff Sargent had used her real name that she almost forgotten to keep listening to his wonderfully appraising words. "_In our time working side by side on the team, you've become a great ally. You will be deeply missed, but alas, I am proud of you, as are the rest of the those who has been informed of your_ _leave_." There was a thoughtful pause, where her face had flooded with color, and he then had added:"_Also, a quick reminder that t__hey will not just immediately send you away without a goodbye, either, so the quicker you get here, the longer we can all pretend we haven't grown family affection for one another."_

For the first time all morning, she gave a free, real laugh, thinking of how true it was. It wasn't forbidden to grow ties in her sector, nor like it was in any branch of the U.S. Armed Forces. But it would always be better to not grow so attached to someone you could loose in the next day. But the thing was, she couldn't see herself _not _loving the men and women on her team, and once more, her throat prickled and closed.

She wouldn't cry. She never cried. She hadn't cried in years.

"Understood, sir." Skylar nodded, reaching to hit the END button on the little plastic phone, but he caught her before she could with a throaty cough, and a:

"_Private Rosette?_"

"Sir?" She responded back curiously, hand stopping on the final curl her hair attempted to brush on out.

_"You didn't hear this from me. Any of this."_

That was it.

And before she could get anything else out of her mouth, before she could get an 'okay' or a 'thank you' or an 'i'm going to miss you' past her lips, he and his voice were gone from her ear, the dial tone buzzing in a pathetic way that hurt her head. Squinting her eyes together, she pressed the END button, shutting off the machine. Setting it down sloppily next to the sink with a _clkclank_, she rolled her neck to follow and hummed in annoyance and stress and worry and even a little bit of swollen-heart sadness. She would be transferred to an unknown sector where there would be an unknown job waiting for her. With unknown people and an unknown horizon. Her entire future was completely, 100% screwed.

Yet, she wouldn't refuse. In fact, even though she had made such a big deal about it, they all knew in the end she would never _not _take it. It would be improper to deny a gesture, and rude. And wrong. So she would take a giant step, no, a giant _leap_ into the unknown _everything. _She would do it with pride, with a wounded soul, but with pride.

Throwing her dark hair up into a tight ponytail, brushing her teeth and fixing herself upright properly for her final day with her team, she ticked off the light and took a bony, awkward seat in the hallway outside. Pulling on one boot, then the other, she was so lost in her thoughts as she laced up the black leather that she didn't even notice Maxwell shuffled forward on his belly, nuzzling his head into her side. When she was done with her feet, and she huffed and collapsed against the wall, Skylar subconsciously began petting behind his ears, a thank you for all his love in the last hour. The big dog whimpered low, knowing what she was going to say before she did.

_It is alright, my person. _He would have said if he could. _I understand. _

But he couldn't speak, and she had to say the words.

"Alright, Max, time to go see Grandma." He whimpered again, crawling further on her. It hurt her to always leave him like that, never sure if his person would return home or not from wherever she went, getting beaten and bruised and bloody, but she couldn't and wouldn't leave him alone. If something were to happen to her, she knew that Maxwell would be okay in the hands of her more than capable mother. So, ruffling his ears, she pressed a little loving kiss on his nose. "I know, I know, buddy, but something tells me I'm not going to come home tonight. Work stuff, you know?"

Taking a stand when he lifted himself to go and try and find his leash for her (a very smart dog, indeed), she made her way further down the hall. Passing her bedroom on the right, the bathroom and the spare on the left, she found herself at the dead end, staring at the small closet in the back. It was for hand towels and hidden board games for the friends she hardly ever had over, but she wasn't looking for woolen linen or Monopoly. Instead, she crouched down to the floor, hands reaching for something no one else could see. And, ever so quietly and delicately, she lifted a patch of carpet by the corner.

Underneath, hidden by grey patching, was a black, industrial backpack with a lock and all. Filled with her own secret files no one was allowed to see, she quickly yanked it out, threw it on her back, and grabbed what lay underneath _that_: a pair of leather gloves, a hat with an optic glass hanging like sunglasses from the side, and, finally, split into two easily constructed pieces, was a sniper rifle.

Max put his leash by her feet.

Her name was Private Skylar Rosette, her dog was Maxwell Rosette, she worked for the U.S. Government and their entire weaponry department as one of their best snipers, and in 0200 hours, all of that would change.

* * *

Even if she _really _felt like punching this guy in the nose, hugging him until he passed out, and/or crying on his feet, all at once, she was also _extremely _good at perfectly, without a doubt, convincinglybullshitting the entire next 5 minutes of her life by keeping one of the most content and happiest faces she'd ever had plastered across her expression like it was _glued _there. Though it might seem a bit, well, _wrong_ for lying about being _happy _for a promotion she (didn't) want, one thing good began. There, right where she stood, started another list. One, she could add, that she was determined to follow through with.

1, get out of this meeting with as much information as she could about where she was going, 2, pack up all her things from her locker and bunker space, 3, say goodbye to her teammates and 4, try to look proud and excited as she did it.

Therefore, she opened her mouth with a cheesy, white-toothed smile as they all stood around the white, plastic table in the middle of the West Hanger at base and said:

"Thank you, sir, for this is an honor, and I am proud to say I served on your team."

Reaching out and shaking hands with the beefy, bald man in front of her she had called Captain for a year and a half, he roughly yet somehow kindly returned the gesture, clapping his free fingers across where they'd knotted their hands together righteously. He was taller than her by only a couple inches, men towering over them both every day, but there was an air to how he held himself that made those 6'5 men cower when they caught a glimpse of him. Captain Boot was a force to be reckoned with, but for now, he was just gazing at her with those grey eyes like he was loosing a child.

"When is my leave?" She continued formally, letting him go and slinging her backpack over her shoulders. The contents inside rattled across her spine, sending a ray of goosebumps searing down her exposed skin. Seeing how they were deemed personally classified to her and her only, she was allowed to keep them without question. No one, besides perhaps Staff Sargent Brian _really_ knew what could _possibly _be inside anyways, so no one asked. She had lost her sniper, however, but promised that in her new line of work, she would be fine and dandy with weaponry choice.

"As soon as you possibly can." Responded the Captain. "Round up your stuff from your bunker, and we will have Staff Sargents Martin and Hill," two familiar faces, however spoken of like strangers, "take you to the change of venue."

Though she knew she shouldn't ask, the words spilled from her tongue before she could contain herself. The curiosity inside of her boiled like water on the stove, simmering over the edge until she was unable to stop herself from inquiry.

"May I ask where I am headed, Captain?"

Of course, he shook his head. His beady eyes glittered.

"Classified, Private, however I give you my word that you have been chosen for your marksmanship, weaponry knowledge and high standards at such an early stage of development in this force, and, quite honestly your young age of 23. You will not be disappointed."

She did not answer him, her mouth staying in a thin line. She might not be disappointed for where she was going, but she was for now, for she had no idea what she was signing up for, and she was leaving behind any sense of normal she had known. He must have sensed that in her, for he came around the side of the table like a caring parent, even, putting his hands on her shoulders delicately. Or, what she _knew _was his brand of delicate - to anyone else, it looked like he was shaking her senses out.

"Private Skylar Rosette, in your time here, you were a fine contribution to this team, a true soldier, and I thank you for your efforts and knowledge."

She nodded once, lips turning up in the corners softly. She felt a prick behind her lids, but again, she would not cry. No pain, internal, mental or external, had made her resort to waterworks in a very, _very_ long time. It would take a true situation of desperation, frustration, exhaustion, hurt and loneliness to make her snap, and though she was slightly nerve-wracked, she was not all of the above. She sucked in air, and tucked her hands behind her back.

"Thank you, sir." She signaled him with her eyes. Her face was blank, but beneath her sunglasses and glass optic still connected to her hat, she was saying her farewell. Skylar would give him that at least.

"Final dismiss." He responded with a bob of his head. He had read her message.

"Thank you, sir." She repeated with a catch in her voice, but before she could try to fix it or say a proper goodbye, he had turned away to deal with something else like the conversation had never happened. Then, like that, without a final look back, she turned on her heels, walked up to where Staff Sargent Brian Martin and Andrea Hill stood like a stone, and walked in time with them away from what had grasped for a long, long time.

That thing, was normalcy.

Nothing was quite the same after that, even the transport starting a new side of her friends she had never seen before. They had never treated her like a common official they moved from to and fro, as she was below them and was more a subject to joking and friendliness. However now they addressed her entirely as if she was not an underclassmen, but a soldier going into a battle with a blindfold wrapped around her eyes. Her questions were all cut off, completely silenced, as they were, to secrecy, despite how she plead for some sort of short answer.

"And you don't know -"

"No." Andrea had shook her head, eyes forward, her dark skin practically glowing in the light of the sun.

"There's nothing you could te -"

"Classified." Brian had continued, ignoring her stare as he drove to the Airport Base a couple dozen miles away. Finally, giving up on it, Private Rosette began fixing her gloves with a scrunched face, as if she'd eaten something as sour as a ripe lemon. She pressed herself against the leather seats of the SUV, and grumbled under her breath one word that didn't go missed by her transporters, only ignored like she hadn't spoken at all.

"_Great_."_  
_

At 0900 hours, now the sun growing like a great big ball of energy in the sky, they had reached their final destination: a secured location for the coming and going of leaving officers from base to other places, or from other places back to base. She had never been here in all of her time working with her team, as she was never on transport duty, and never an official. But now, she wasn't so sure. It would be stupid to get her hopes up for they could easily be ripped out of her grasp, but perhaps she _was _getting a title upgrade with her new stationing. Whatever that may be, she _still _had no knowing of.

"Thank you, Private Rosette." Brian had held his hand out to her in a serious manor as they had exited the vehicle. Some 100 feet away sat a monster-sized fighter chopper, still running, it's blades running around and around and around and around, picking up dirt and sand from where they stood out in the blazing sun. She swallowed down as she gazed at one of her closest friends, snatching his arm up in hers.

"And you, Staff Sargent." She really did want to thank him. For taking her under wing, for being such a good person, a good friend. Unprofessionally, he gave her a brief, one sided hug, but then he was gone, nothing but his ghost to remind her he had been there.

With her pride tucked away in her pocket, she readjusted her backpack and gloves, positioned her hat over her eyes, and made her way across the blacktop towards the chopper that almost beckoned her with all it's mute and secrets. She was so far away from the two Sargents now, that she could hear their muttered conversations.

"_You think she'll like it there? Wherever that is?_"

"_She'll love it_." It was Brian who curled his lips into a toothy grin, but only he could tell it wasn't exactly the nicest face he had ever made. In fact, if anyone had looked at him right then, it was almost...sarcastic. But no one did, and he fixed his composure, hands tucking behind his back. "_But don't worry. She'll be back. We wouldn't just give away a brain like hers._"

Back at the chopper, two men had come out of the open door, dropping to the surface below with two muted _thunks_. One grabbed her arm in a directive manor, the other holding out his hand so she could balance herself against the metal barring to get inside. When she was burrowed in, the men following, they slammed the door behind them without wasting time. Not, that it made _any _difference that there was no noise, for the chopper blades were so loud they needed headphones to speak.

Sitting in front of her was a strongly built man, one she had never seen before in her time, and she had met a lot of different officers. He was tan, brown hair on his head the shade of chocolate, yet he was completely shaved around the chin and ears. His pants were camo, big tan boots caked with dirt and mud, but his shirt was just a regular t-shirt like her own, just as dark as the smudges of oil and grime on his skin. His eyes blinked into hers, he could be no older than 40, and when she had a headset strapped on, her body in a seat-buckle as well, she raised a fine eyebrow.

"_Private Skylar Rosette?_" He questioned of her, raising a hand for the pilot's to wait for take off. His voice was a yell in the speakers, for if not, she wouldn't have been able to hear him period. She never knew these things could be so _deafening _from the inside.

Though she should have been nicer, especially to someone who could have very well been her next officer, she couldn't help her witty remark that spewed out before she could catch it. Her filter was a small one, mouth always spilling out something new.

"_Who's asking?_" She snarked, fingers suddenly clawing the leather underneath her when he only laughed, giving the pilot the okay. Then, they took off almost immediately into the sky, the two Sargents below specks, the land a sea of colors as they zoomed through the atmosphere. She didn't particularly like heights, so to be at this incline didn't do her stomach much good. She kept her eyes trained on the man in front of her instead of dwelling on the thoughts of what would happen if the engine failed.

"_Captain William Lennox!_" He introduced himself formally, putting a hand out for her to shake. She did, then let go, only to catch his last sentence:

"_What you're about to join, the only thing I can tell you is: t__ry to keep an open mind, alright?_"

* * *

**THINGS TO THINK ABOUT:**

**What does Private Rosette have in her bag? Why does Captain Lennox need her specifically? Why is her old team willing to let her go?**

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**Next Chapter Preview:**

**Private Skylar will have to live up to her armory rumors for Lennox about just what she can do with a weapon. If she can do what he and his unknown team needs, she might just have a new job on her hands.**


	2. INTERVIEWS

**HEARTLINES**

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_A/N: Hi again everyone! Wow, 5 reviews already, and it's only Chapter 2! Haha, thank you so much, it was_ so _nice waking up to find a ton of response. I'll answer to them each individually like I always do with all of my stories as soon as this is posted._

_Just some quick things to know: **this is set after ROTF, and before DOTM. Yes, it is Bayverse because I love Bayverse. **Also, though I give everyone the creative right to view Skylar as however they please, I personally picture her as the wonderfully exotic **Amelia Zadro**. She is just plain beautiful!_

_Finally, this chapter is over **8,000**_ _words. Though there is so many letters, it is filled with more answers rather than action, so I ask that you bare with me until everything starts flowing easy. I don't want to make her a Mary Sue that just immediately falls in line with everything. She's been living with the same people for years, and suddenly, she's changing it all up. It's not something to take lightly._

_Thanks for the reviews, the love, and for you: a fucking long ass chapter!_

_P.S. Apologies for grammar errors: I blame the Decepticons._

_- Summer_

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**CHAPTER 2. INTERVIEWS  
**[same day: 1400 hours]

* * *

When Captain Lennox had spoken to her in the 'copter cabin, and told her to keep an open mind for what lay ahead in the future, Skylar very well _would_ have kept her thoughts and beliefs so airy and open that hurt. She would have listened to every single _damn_ thing that he had to say to her. She would have trusted her new commander entirely. She would have gone off to battle for him the second they reached camp if he requested it, for it was duty, it was loyal to the person who was leading her. Her morals would not change because of a new job position. After all, he had chosen _her _out of everyone and anyone in the Force to join his team specifically, and for that she would have been grateful.

However that all changed the second they touched down.

Before she even took one half step off the helicopter, with shaking legs from being so high and situated in a vibrating transport, one of the men who had opened the door for her upon entering had grabbed her arm tightly to keep her steady. Before she could take a big breath in a look around for some indication of where they were, the other one who had been just as nice before, now grabbed Private Rosette's other bicep, and with his free hand, plunged a syringe into the base of her neck. And, before she could get a gasp past her lips, filled with a bubbled, clear liquid, the contents of the needle drained away through her veins.

She went still as a statue, not fighting the sedation. Not, that she could if she had wanted to, as the effects were almost instantaneous, practically pulling her knees out from under her. But she was much prouder than that to start screaming or fighting back, when she knew what the ultimate outcome would be. So, eyes drifting to slits, Skylar buckled, bending at the waist. The man holding her bicep lightly let her drop to the ground, and her back hit the sandy tarp of the new base ground with a _crk. _Her shoulder gave a little crack yet again, for the 3rd time that day.

The last thing Private Rosette saw before her eyes crossed and slid shut, was a flash of something extremely blinding and luminescent in the agonizing sunlight of noon, before darkness caped over her like a blanket. She could hear the sound of an engine purring, but then...nothing.

* * *

Coming back around was starting off_ much_ more pleasing than diving under into the unsteady unconsciousness.

Instead of feeling like she was free-falling from the chopper at a horrible, plummeting 90 degree angle, she was free-_floating_ in a pool of the softest water she'd ever been in. No bath, shower, ocean or sauna had ever felt this excitingly sweet: true euphoria from some sort of 3rd party hallucination she was enduring. It encased her in a tight wrap, it was soothing and warm - and then it wasn't. Then, it was overall bone-chilling, obnoxiously cold, and dripping from her sweaty skin as she came up from the looming darkness to gasp for air.

Olive eyes drifting open to send a signal inwardly on what was in front of her, back to the brain, a loose smile that had formed in her time out of the game faded faster than the blurriness of her eyesight.

She made a quick checklist: Skylar could _feel_ herself sitting in a bony, metal chair, that same icy chill of water soaking her and her clothing down to her toes. Skylar could _see_ that someone stood in front of her, tossing aside a shape that looked like a plastic pitcher over her shoulder to someone she couldn't witness. It was still sloshing with the same liquid that slid down her pale skin. She could _hear_ many exotic (and slightly nerve-wracking) sounds: a rumbling of machinery, like an industrial fan or an airplane getting ready for a take off. Skylar could _taste_ confusion in her mouth and sand on her lips when licked her bottom one in concentration.

And she could _smell _this odor of some sort of metal, lots of sweat and bloodshed mixed together to fumigate the room in a layer of thickening _heat_.

Wherever they were, it was so stuffy she could sense her asthma already hating it. Her chest contracted painfully, lungs burning, but she kept herself calm enough to focus on the man on in front of her. Her brain felt like a dangerously fuzzy pillow, a complete mushy jumbled mess. She ripped the pillow to pieces and forced herself to remember who it was waiting for her to fully come to.

He was tall, scruffy, with a large, white smile -

Lennox. The name Lennox sounded familiar, it fit his face, then - _ah, Captain William Lennox. It's nice to see you again, sir, especially after you transferred me from my team, gave me no information about who, what, where, when or why you did as such, sedated me, and then woke me up by throwing water all over me, all in the same day._

That is, if it was the same day. She didn't know. It depended on just how hard they had drugged her for.

"Sorry for all this." He apologized lightly, as if the entire thing was a joke, his scratchy voice holding no real upset by what they'd done. His bulky, muscled arms were crossed across his chest from where he stood a good 5 feet away, watching her like a mother watching her daughter after she'd done something terribly wrong with John Doe down the street. Uncomfortable under his watchful stare, she flexed her hands down by her sides. Finding them free of any restraint, her skull tilted curiously. Unlike what she had originally suspected, she was able to move, no ties holding her to the chair they'd slumped her in.

She could get up and leave. She could get up and _run._

But she would not do that.

This was her commanding _officer_ she was reporting to, and she would stay strong and proud in his eye until dismissed.

They _also_ may have had a very hefty looking guard standing by the door as well, blocking her way even if she tried.

"You see," Lennox began speaking once more, turning to pace to his side, hands falling behind his back. He gazed at the ceiling as he spoke, indirectly, but not entirely rude. He looked more deep in thought on how to word this conversation. All of the sudden, he began rubbing the stubble on his chin, as if the thought of a shave appeased him, "we_ could_ have blindfolded you, but that would have been a much larger hassle, and sedating you just seemed easier."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she simply didn't murmur anything at all. Why try to cover anything up in the first place? Had she done something wrong already? Why go through the trouble of hiding things from her, if she wasn't some sort of the threat? Was this entire transfer a joke? Was she just being tested? On what? Her ability to stay calm in a strenuous situation? Her abilities to save her own skin?

He answered her mental thoughts quickly, striking through half of them with a big red X, though he had no idea what she'd been wondering anyways. He was just going on with his thoughts as they came, in a true Lennox way.

"Until I have your full cooperation and trust, Private Rosette, I can't tell you where we are." It took a moment to do anything, to react. When she did, she simply blinked at him twice. He paused, gazing over at her over his dark sunglasses. Doing one of the most lady-like things she had in a while, she formally crossed her legs (even in tight, wet jeans), placing her hands on her knees in intent to listen. Sure, she could be rough, and tough, and mean, and a total ass-kicking machine, but she _was _still a woman, a very young, kind-heart if you go to know her, and it never hurt to use a little professional charm to figure things on out. "I formally introduced myself on the chopper, but I will do it again. Captain William Lennox." He held a hand out for her to shake, and she did, smaller palm hidden in his rough, meaty paw.

He beamed.

"Now, welcome to your interview."

The word sunk in like her chest did, sitting back in the chair in minor astonishment. Her hand dropped back to her lap, fingering a hole on the thigh of her jeans she didn't remember being there before. Her face was most likely scrunched into a confused little expression, nose crinkled on her face. She could feel droplets of sweat pooling on her neck, under her arms and on her stomach, seeing how the water he had sprayed her with had dried; this place had absolutely _no _air conditioning, did it? The hair falling from that ponytail of hers stuck to her in such an irritating way that it took everything in her power to resist the urge to scratch the skin.

"Interview?" Private Rosette repeated, unable to help herself as she grabbed onto the back of her neck, itching until she was red. "I, well sir, I thought I was being transferred -"

"Yes and no." He cut her off strategically, hands pressing together as if he was going to pray, but position downward. As if he was going to give her a proposition instead, in the wake of his prayers. His eyes finally met hers, and he stopped moving to make sure she understood what he was saying was completely serious. "You are on my team regardless of what happens this room in the next 15 minutes, so keeping that in mind, welcome to N.E.S.T."

She didn't feel welcome. She didn't feel trusting. She just stared, and a part of him hoped he knew it too. One doesn't simply just _sedate her_, and still end up with puppy loyalty.

Except for Max. If she knocked him out, he'd still probably follow her into the sunset.

She missed her dog already.

"Now comes the part where you live up to your status, Private." Continued Lennox. "This is what will go down: you will demonstrate exactly what I ask of you, and if you do, or do not, do what is required, you will have decided where your title lies here."

Perplexed, confusion shot through her like the concussive drug had: fast, over-coming, dangerous. She opened her mouth, raising a hand as if to ask a question. But when she tried to think of one that made any sense, or was any more dominant than the others, all that came out was the inquiry:

"Sir?"

"Follow me to the table." He responded, extremely directive, without question. She cocked an eyebrow high on her forehead, considering the notion to deny his blatant request. Yet, he gave her no answer other than holding out his own arm for her to take. It took her a moment to find her nerve, her calm, and her footing, but in the end, strong, alas wearily, she latched on to his wrist, clinging to him as distant as possible. She almost (_almost_) forgot she had been unconscious for hours, and that walking came naturally to those had been on their feet on their own will. She, on the other hand, had this feeling in her belly that she had been carried, so she almost stumbled.

Again, _almost._

He sauntered ahead of her, heavy boots making more noise than her own squeaky leather that sounded like a feather compared to his animal rampaging. Far off to their direct left, a good 50 feet from the metal chair in the center of the room, sat a large, aluminum table, full of what she could immediately tell were very _expensive _looking weapons. Ranging from the smallest: a normal police man's hand gun, already set in a holster, to a bulking M-60 wrapped in a belt of ammo, they sat without moving, gathering dust that fluttered in the light pouring through the windows. Skylar resisted the urge to run her fingers over them as she approached, leaning against the side to hover despite how wrong it might be; she lived and _breathed_ new weaponry like a florist did to a brand new breed of flowers and simply couldn't help herself.

She was so caught up in marveling, that she just about missed him open up a control box on the wall. Inside was a small, circular red button, that when pressed (which he did), the entire hanger started to vibrate with a blaring, industrialized buzz. On the opposite side, a simple target dropped from a metal wire from above, a new sheet ready for destroying. The humming under her feet stopped, making her ankles protest at the lack of movement.

It took Private Rosette a moment, but she figured they were in an empty weapons room in the end; a target practice area without the plastic walls, ear muffs and protective gear. Whatever sector she had joined, they obviously didn't need it. Not that she did either, but it was just another thing to add to her list of things she _didn't _know about this sweltering place she'd soon call home.

Another long, long list.

Placing a hand on her shoulder to remind her to return to the present, Captain Lennox was a gently directive, instructing her to come down from her thoughts that were clearly overwhelming her. He was no idiot. He saw her face, understood her body language. Though his wife wasn't the first or only woman he'd known, his marriage to Sarah taught him a few things. He understood giving her no answers for now was most likely frying her brain beyond belief. He wasn't being fair to his new Private. But it had to be done before he could make a decision, and therefore, he kept a straight expression; a poker face for the books that he couldn't wait to break.

Lennox motioned to the table, then dropped his hands behind his back for another time.

"Pick one." He shrugged it off when she gave him an incredulous look of disbelief, just waiting for her to make a choice and take in her reaction. Skylar couldn't believe he was trusting her with a weapon, especially to _these _extents, when he appeared so unprepared all on his own. He wore no body armor, just his t-shirt and camo, and bore no firearm that she could see. But, then again, there was the guard at the door, who if she did anything to Lennox, would probably drop her like a fly. Of course she _wouldn't_ do anything, not even touch the hair on his head, but there were people she knew that _would._

Gazing at the mix of black and silver lying in heaps across the table, surrounded by different kinds of shell casings changing colors from grey to gold, the strange, strange mix of fallen toys to tinker with seemed to almost hum in delight that she was there. Skylar felt her fingers flying towards something familiar as soon as she caught it in the corner of her eye. Something she knew how to use even if she was blind and dying, or, in extreme cases, in a job interview. A sniper rifle was tucked underneath an M-240, calling to her, screaming _pick me, pick me, pick me!_

Grasping the butt of the gun, feeling it's slightly unbalanced weight, she couldn't place her finger on it immediately, but something was wrong.

Before she could investigate, he had grabbed her by the arms, and turned her to face the target on the other wall. He could have told her to do anything, perhaps stand upside down, backwards, and shoot with her mouth, but he gave her the most simplest of actions. So simple, she wondered if the entire intro to this was just a joke. That he was screwing around with the newest rookie to his team. It wouldn't be the first time; her last team had done the same exact thing upon her induction, and had learned quickly that it was a mistake to do as such.

What did he ask of her?

"I want you to aim at the target and fire."

Shooting him a suspicious look out of the corner of her eye, she set her jaw in the same kind of manor, forgetting the fact that she had thought there was something wrong with the rifle in her hands. If he wanted to see what she could do (maybe this entire thing was to just test her sniper skills) then she would show him, and ace this 'interview' with fantastic, flourishing, flying, phenomenal colors.

"That's all?" She made sure she wasn't missing anything, that he wasn't going to stop her once she'd started to throw in additional data. She could do it on one foot if he wanted her too. But this? This was _too _easy. She actually split a grin despite herself, feeling the gaining sense of more confidence when he nodded his head once. He was in for a show, then, was he? Fine, a _circus _he would get out of her. She never did anything half-assed, and not something like _this._

"You have 15 seconds, starting:" He paused for a good 12 before that, waiting for the little ticker to move to zero. She moved into a ready-stance position, holding the cool exterior between her fingertips, and took a deep breath in. She was prepared, she was feeling like she could wipe the floor with this guy, but then she tensed and she stopped.

Her finger's didn't feel right. Something was wrong.

Was this gun missing the -

"Now."

The moss color in her eyes flashed dark like the after-effect of colored lightning, pupils dilating to tiny little dots in concentration. Almost in slow motion, she could physically feel her mind focus in on the weapon she held, giving a warning to her subconscious on what was missing and what wasn't. There was no trigger, no ammo, no release valve and no _time. _Disgusting tar dripped from a leak, and she could almost see smoke rising from the edge. This wasn't a rifle for firing; this was a piece of _crap _joke she couldn't shoot out of if she wanted.

Feeling set up, used, lied to, she snarled a little and turned to confront him. Only, that is, to find the police pistol gone from the table, and instead, aimed straight for her forehead, like a second hand to his arm. _That _weapon clearly wasn't just for show. He had no expression; his eyes were guarded by his sunglasses.

Two things happened so fast they were just about missed.

The first was much quicker than the second, and much more bold. If he was anyone but Lennox, it would have most likely gotten her kicked out _haste pronto._ Before her new Captain knew it, before she knew it too, her left arm dropped the riffle to her right, coating her fingers in sticky, black, gooey oil as it slicked from the end. Her free arm shot out to grab his extended wrist, twisting it until he was forced to drop the weapon. He didn't yelp when she took his gun, but only smiled attentively as she stopped paying attention to him, and continued on to thing number two: _taking it apart_. Practically breaking it to pieces, she found a weak spot in the trigger and pulled the base out, falling to her backside to work on the floor. A part of her was keeping time.

11.

Taking the trigger piece from the small little gun, she shoved it up into the rifle compartment that lacked one before, even if it wasn't made for that. But it worked, clicking into place. It was like because she wanted it to work, it did. Or perhaps she always knew the outcome.

8.

The time was flying by as she pulled the ammo container out and slammed it on the floor to be used as soon as she was done.

6.

Plugging her fingers into the clogged end of the detachable muzzle brake that refused to clear, a horrible, pathetic drip fell out of the front, sloshing on the floor. After shaking it to make sure nothing else would come out, she wiped her face with her hand where some of it had hit her, but only made it worse, slaying her chin with oil and tar.

4.

Sliding onto her knees, ripping a new hole in the jeans, she was practically flipping herself down into an army man's laying position. Wasting no second, she grabbed the ammo to her right, shoved it in the bottom with a familiar_ click_, and in 3, 2, _1_: she shot the sniper rifle three times, moss eyes gazing through the scope. The first bullet pierced the dummy sheet's head through the center, pinging into the back wall, lost in the titanium. The next two were in the chest, following the same movement until there was a ripping noise, and the paper sifted off the metal wire.

There was silence, the gun still smoking.

"_What was that for_, _sir_?" She finally exploded in fury, shoving the weapon to the side like it burned her. It roamed across the ground at least 6 feet away, ignored completely as she moved from her chest, to her knees, into a standing position, every muscle bunched together and tense. Whirling around on her heels, she felt like pointing a finger at him, charging up in his face and throwing out some very mean words at his incredibly _stupid_ idea, but a logical sense of mind to not lunge and attack kept her planted to the floor where she stood. "W-what the hell was that - _why_ the hell was the that? Are you just going to point guns at me from now on? Sir, I haven't even_ done_ anything yet!"

"Ah, the word yet."

Lennox had opened his mouth to talk, perhaps to be witty, to congratulate her, or attempt to calm her down, but someone else had spoken over his choke, and cut him off. Spinning 180 behind her, stood the guard who had been stationed at the door. Or, not a guard at all, but a stranger to her, a friend to Lennox, who addressed the Captain comfortably with his eyes and a soft smile. Unlike the William in front of her, who she wanted to punch in the nose, this man was tall, dark skinned, more lankly than buff, but still filled out when he crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans like her, even down to the boots, besides the fact that his were tan in opposition to the black leather that squished with water that had yet to dry. He had a closely shaved head, and his brown eyes flicked over her face, seeing her up close for the first time like she was him.

"No, trust me, Private, you did something."

Private Skylar was originally bemused on what he could have been talking about, but then remembered her own words: _Sir, I haven't even done anything yet!_ Her ears burned, and only deepened when he laughed and pat her shoulder, like she was a child needing to be perked up from a tantrum she was feasting. She wasn't always this internally conflicted; she was just irritated. In her Captain, in what she had done, and:

"Shit, you were right. She'll fit in just fine." The man had handed over a nice wad of cash to her commanding officer wrapped in a flimsy rubber band, obviously a bet on her expense when Lennox laughed triumphantly and tucked it away. She wasn't sure what she hated more about this situation: being a part of a game, not getting answers for why she was, or the fact that she had just took apart a handgun and reformatted it for a sniper rifle only to find out that they already _knew _she could do it. She could have ripped her hair out; _what _in the name of God was going on? "Damn it, Will, I hate when that happens."

"May I ask what -"

Skylar itched to grab that rifle when once again, she was cut off. She sensed it was a reoccurring theme here. Would she get used to? It depended if she was arrested for manslaughter, for she was ready to murder them both with her bare hands.

"Retired Air Force: Sargent Robert Epps." Lennox introduced the man to her, motioning between the two strangers for somewhat of a formal introduction. Following the pattern of every other official she had met, she shook his hand. However when the moment was over and she felt more frustrated than ever, she let her fingers fall flat by her side. "Epps, meet Professional Sniper: Private Skylar Rosette."

"_Charmed_." She muttered through a fake smile that barely stretched. Both men had to strain to hear the truth under the lie, but it didn't go missed. Having _personal _experiences with peeved off-women, from co-workers, children and _wives, _the two friends shared a quick look of unison, and decided to pick up the pace with this little meeting before something went in the wrong direction.

"That's some nice aim you've got under pressure." Epps complimented her workmanship, turning over his shoulder to cast a side glance at the fallen target sheet that lay out like a blanket, or a fallen body, on the dirty concrete. It was always good to start with a compliment when they were about to hound her for answers, but he was being honest at the same time, despite his alternate motives. 3 bullets were plastered in the wall, and looking back at her, his eyes blinked once. "That was why Will over here pointed his firearm at you. Now, why don't you tell us about the part where you took apart a _very _expensive handheld and calibrated it into your rifle in under 15 seconds?"

It was slight, but Skylar's eyes narrowed. So _this _is where the conversation was headed, was it? Well, she wasn't too keen to share. She didn't trust these men, not the slightest, not anymore, and especially not with her personal secrets of what she knew. If they wanted her to give away herself, they would first have to prove their worth to _her. _How the slightest things could make the table turn was the universe's great way of circles, and here was a perfect example.

"I'm just good with weapons." She admitted slowly, and only partially. A _partial _truth. Lennox looked at the sniper rifle that sat abandoned on the floor to the police man's right hand pistol that was completely broken apart, and then laughed once, loud, believing, and friendly. Epps had taken it upon himself to clear the table from all it's weapons as his ex-partner chortled, dragging to to where they stood.

"So we've heard." Laughed Lennox, then pointed at the metal stool she had vacated when waking up. "Chair." He directed, and perhaps because she felt obligated to still follow orders even if she was more than perturbed, or perhaps she just felt _so _weighed down, her feet took command, yanking her over to the chair. She sagged like a deflated balloon when she was in it, hands between her legs as her elbows rested on her knees. Her hair had pretty much completely fallen out, knots of it trailing to her ribs. Her skin felt hot, her knotted limbs and muscles crying in defeat. But she straightened up when both men were officially seated across from her.

"Sir?" She questioned delicately when Epps flicked on a small little lamp that was bolted to the end. It had to have been run by batteries, as there was no wire, plug or outlet in sight.

"Call me Lennox." He waved a hand as if to break up the congested air in between all of them, eyes trained down on a vanilla envelope that seemed to have come out of absolutely nowhere. From what she could identify on the front, in big black letters that made her feel uncomfortable, were:

**PRIVATE SKYLAR ROSETTE  
PERSONAL FILE**

She opened her mouth to inquire, but her Captain raised a warning hand, still entranced with something he was reading on the other side of the binder. She wanted to snatch it up from his peeping-Tom grip and read what was there all for herself, but it would be wrong and suspicious if she did as such, and so she sat like a frozen sculpture in her spot, waiting for him, or Epps, to say something, anything. But Epps looked and seemed just as entranced with the paperwork too, and it made her feel queasy. Her throat was closing from fear; where was her inhaler?

"This isn't interrogation." William finally shut the file, sliding it towards her with his two fingers, taking his sunglasses off and setting them aside. Quite truthfully, she was a bit taken aback at first, for his permission to let her see inside her own ledger, but she didn't argue before he changed his mind. While she clawed at it, flinging it open to scan it's content, internally trying to decrease her heartbeat. Epps nodded appreciatively. The young woman sitting before them had a history of serving the cause, and had a resume like no other. "In fact, all we're doing is just clearing up some...polluted air, if you will."

Skylar's head tilted to the side, just a little, an indicator she was listening as she lifted a sheet to see what was underneath. This page was about her detailed characteristics, typed up like a word document:

_Full Name: Skylar Lilian Rosette  
Age: 22 (BIRTH DATE: JULY 1st)  
Height: 5'5  
Weight: 120-125 Lbs  
Allergies: Felis Catus  
Injuries/Set-Backs: _

_LOGGED BY CAPTAIN TRENTON BOOT_

_QUOTE Private Rosette sustained a serious back/shoulder injury during an Iraqi mission that came to a close when a teammate stepped on a hidden landmine in the mountains, breaking two ribs and dislocating her shoulder. Her work and training was sustained for 4 months, 4 days before she was able to rejoin the team. No further shoulder injuries followed. UNQUOTE_

_Also suffers from asthma - inhaler prescribed by physician (to be taken when having an attack, or symptoms leading up) _

While she continued to read about herself, more logs about minor settlements and cuts and grazes, a subconscious part of her was listening to Captain Lennox as he continued with his 'non-interrogation'.

"I won't lie to you, Private Rosette. There's a bug going around saying that you've been designing unauthorized, unprotected, non-protocol weaponry."

Her fingers that had gently gripped the paper to lift it cramped up in shell-shock, mashing between her knuckles. The words crinkled, jumbled in her palm as she stopped moving, stopped _breathing._ She raised her head slowly, chin up, to gaze Captain Lennox and Ex-Sargent through the slits that were her eyes. She had no words, nothing to say, because if she opened her mouth, she would do something very, _very _irrational. So she stayed put, watching them like a hawk. From the corner of her vision, she saw another officer, whoever he was, set her heavy black backpack down on the table.

She could have hissed. Had they gone through her _stuff?_

Almost if he could read question through her eyes directly down to the very last word, Lennox shook his head once, leaning back in his chair. His expression was soft, trying to get her to relax from her horribly horrified crouch. He didn't want this to start a bad relationship between the two of them; in fact, he could see someone as bold and qualified as her being a wonderful ally in the time they spent together, on.

"We would never have gone through your bag, Ms. Rosette, for your consideration as a part of my team now, and because we're not at authority or friendliness to break your rights." Skylar wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel honored that, just like they had kept many things secret from _her_, they left her's in the dark as well for none of _them _to see. But, another sick part of her was furious that they even remotely knew anything about her, well, _hobby. "_But, even if we didn't touch it, we have got a good idea what was inside."

She was more than quiet. She was stony. She was waiting.

Lennox rubbed his temples.

"I can't take this old-TV-show-drama and angst we're giving off. I need a stiff drink." He groaned a little, then motioned to her yet again with his fingers. "Please, just relax. You're not in any trouble, in fact, you won't ever be if I see to it, so you can breathe. We're not here to create an issue for you. Whatever we talk about is 100% classified material."

All the air left her lungs in a hissing little _woosh,_ but it was suddenly very hard to breathe regardless of what he asked. So much was weighing in on her like dumbbells on her shoulders, her thoughts, the situation, and this damn _stuffy room,_ that she knew what she needed, and if she didn't get it soon, it would be an _extremely _bad show. She reached for her bag with aching hands, snagging onto the lock as she began to stifle miniature heaves, ignoring the looks of slight hope they gave her that she might be sharing her files. But, when her combination was in, she was digging for not secrets, but her tiny, white inhaler.

"Can I ask where...these rumors...are from?" She wheezed, trying to make receiving these puffs of air as quick and painless as possible. She hated the fact that she had this issue. It made her usually feel like a pity party, like she was now, as Lennox's mouth turned down into a frown as he looked upon her. That very bold person had been absent for just a couple seconds as a defenseless side of her took over was flying away in the wind. And when she was inhaling easy again, she threw the minuscule machine back in her back, and zipped it back up.

Only she noticed she didn't re-lock it.

"So are you saying they're rumors?" He hummed, more curious than anything else. It sparked in his eyes like a child who wanted to know where Santa came from. As she watched him and his wondering gaze, she briefly contemplated her answer, and how she would give it. Skylar weighed what her choices were here; he wasn't giving her many. She could be untruthful and say she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, join his team with no trust from either party, and hate this more than she'd hated anything else ever. Or, she could believe him when he said he would bring no trouble with whatever they spoke of, and she might finally get her answers, and fix whatever awkward, distrustful bonding they had so far.

She crossed her ankles and sat back in the chair, releasing her file. She exhaled viciously.

"You know what? No, I'm not denying it, sir, no. I guess I will start off this 'interview' being honest with you, my Captain, since I have obviously been caught."

"It's not a matter of being caught. In fact -"

For once, it was _her _turn to silence him. Taking a stand, she leaned over her pack on the table, ripping the zipper right open. To any innocent bystander who looked inside anyways, there was nothing but a first aid kit, useless twine half knotted like a game, a stuffed animal and an inhaler. But, she felt around for the hidden button on the left side, unclasping it until an entire other pocket was free. She grabbed the binder hidden away, moved her backpack off the table, and slapped the container down in front of them. Taking her seat again, she shoved it his way.

"You can search them." She permitted Lennox, not like she had much to say anymore anyways. She'd handed them over, and now, they were his to share. He opened each blueprint that stretched half the length of the table and kept an emotionless poker face, laying out her ideas, her thoughts, her secrets. There were 5 large blue sheets of paper with white crayola pencil all over, drawing out the shapes of weapons that world had never seen before, or, what she _thought _they had never seen. There were 3 notebooks _full _of notes, theorems and Laws of Physics, Chemistry and Bio. She even had a pencil that said: _I'm just a Spectator__ Ion!_ on the side from when she was in High School.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Thing is: though I know how to put each of these weapons together in my sleep, I've never had the equipment to begin." Lennox raised an eyebrow as he went through a notebook, _his _indication to _her _that he was listening. Epps was caught up in the weapons. They looked _very close _to the beauties strapped on his _bigger _friends, and would talk to Lennox afterwards on the similarities. "Getting guns isn't easy these days with all the background checks and Laws, and _creating _them is more dangerous than trying to get them. Let alone finding the time, the area, the _technology_."

Will noticed her compassion as she spoke. It was compelling. Glancing up at her, she was no longer paying him attention, but was staring at the roof, lost in thought as she spoke aloud. She was more than relax now, almost blase. He briefly wondered if this was a mask, or if she truly was more comfortable.

"Quit starring at me." She snapped without removing her eyes from the rafters, which, he strangely listened. Her lips quirked up, as did Epps at how quickly Lennox had complied. "Thank you, however, back on track: I didn't have the money, the machinery, the time, the area, or the _ability. _To create what these are asking, you'd have to retain mere _hundreds _of gigawatts, an entire room the size of this one just to try and find the right caliber, and the correct math." She paused for just a second. "I know I could build them if I had all the right elements."

"You do?" Epps inquired with a disbelieving look. Someone as young as her, so moved by emotions and innocence, delving in the land of hefty physics? Her lips pursed, and she pointed at Lennox, who was still entranced in her notebooks.

"I did just take apart his gun in less than 4 seconds."

Epps went silent.

Lennox beamed.

"Noted." He nodded, putting one spiral down to grab the next. This one was heavier, full of even _more _equations and _knowledge. _He wasn't surprised, only a little flabbergasted that she had never shared her Intel with anyone until today. Or, well, that was false. She would have had to share it with _someone, _or his source would have been a farce. But this source claimed a direct line, and she had sent for her change immediately.

Ex-Sargent began to speak, moving his hands in a 'please help me, I'm lost' manor, but she stopped him before he could inquire for assistance.

"Before you ask, I've been like this for as long as I can remember, Lennox." She leaned forward, swallowing down a lump in her throat for what she was doing, for what she was _going _to do. A sheltered side of her mind told her to _shut the hell up, _but the other side was finally ready to release what she'd kept hidden for years. Not even her own mother knew about what she could _really _do. Only Max, her dog, but he didn't count.

She took a big breath:

"Machinery, weaponry and numbers come to me like air would just the same to you. It is my strong point of life. I see things in a stellar optic; for example, I was able to take in what was wrong with that gun in less than a second, and without trouble. But, in opposition, I can't write a decent paper in English? I have no idea why my skills lie with death traps, but that's why I chose to join the U.S. Force, so I could use these..._talents_, or whatever you want to call them, for a cause. And _not _stay cooped up in some college dorm, sketching away guns that don't work. But," She inhaled, reminding herself that air was a good thing during a speech, "I won't lie and say I haven't thought of designing my own, not, that I would ever use them for personal gain." She promised, smacking her hands down on the table as she completed.

Lennox and Epps were quiet, wearing matching faces of awe and appreciation. Somewhere deep down, it pleased Skylar to see such a reaction. Finally, Epps was the first to speak.

"How can someone who looks so innocent as her be more gun savvy than I am?"

She pursed her lips, in a what could have even been a slightly _teasing _manor, but her eyebrows and eyes were dark.

"Is that a sexist joke?"

"No, actually. Absolutely not." Lennox responded calmly, however kicking his friend under the table until he yelped and groaned in his hand. Private Rosette didn't miss it, and it made her lips perk up ever so softly on the sides. But she held her fierce face; she felt smugness radiating off of her like a chemical. "I know a lot of wonderful soldiers who are women." Lennox continued through closed teeth, jamming his foot into Epps' to get him to fix his goof. Things were going smoothly with Ms. Rosette. He didn't need any issues.

"_Get your nasty ass boots off of mine - _ack, fine, Jesus Christ, I _only_ meant it, because you look like you should be petting dogs, when you are petting AK-47's and heavy metal."

Skylar was silent. Internally, she was actually laughing, but on the outside, she made no change in body language.

"You've frightened her, Epps. Good job." Lennox laughed, jokingly, however his teeth were sharp, giving a false smile to his buddy. Epps motioned to her, quietly muttering: "What? It was a _joke._" Yet, something her Captain had said had ruined Skylar's calm composure, making her stomach shift in an uncomfortable direction. She reached out a hand, not touching his, but setting it down softly next to it. Catching both their attentions, Skylar raised her eyebrows to add emphasis to what she was going to say:

"I am not afraid, sir." She promised softly, then retreated back into her I'm-A-Hard-Ass Treehouse, as if that kind side of her had never been there to begin. "So," she crossed her ankles, "if I may," they nodded, "if I'm not in trouble for these blueprints, and I may or may not have proven my worth, what exactly do you want of me? I can assure you what I want to make here is just simply free ideas -"

"N.E.S.T.," Lennox spoke over her, arms making an X over his pectoral muscles, "is very classified, as you might have been able to tell."

Her green eyes narrowed, and she found herself leaning in with anticipation. Now they got to the good part, and when she slowly bobbed her head in understanding, he continued.

"We're much more -"

"- advanced," Epps spoke over _him, _taking the floor, "than what may meet the eye."

Private Skylar snorted, hand hovering to her sketches, her work, her _dreams _she never expected anyone to see, let alone tell her that, what:

"Are you saying you can get me the technology for this?" She burst into laughter when neither responded, signifying a yes. It echoed like a sonic radar from wall to wall to wall, drowning out all other noise that wherever they were made. She began to grab back her notebooks, exhausted, packing them away again to their hideaway. They didn't argue; they had her full co-op. if they knew it yet or not. It had been a...relief to let it go, quite truthfully. But, she wasn't thinking about that now. Currently, she was thinking about how _crazy _these guys were. "Sir - Epps, Lennox, whatever - I hope you do understand that, well - I mean, _that _would mean defying _physical_ laws and require so much horse power to back it up that you'd put this place in darkness for a month and -" She broke off in muffled giggles again.

Lennox rolled his eyes.

"We know what we're asking of you, but from what I've observed just in our time together just now, I have faith in you."

Her laughter abruptly slid off, and she gazed at him as he stood, helping her pack away her things. Her mouth curved down, and her hands drifted to her sides, clenched in fists instead of taking her work back. Something contrasted in her chest; was it, could it be, guilt?

"Already, so blindly?" She winced at his blinded trust, unable to look him straight in the pupil. He put her blueprints in the bag, zipped the pieces together, and locked the lock. Handing it to her, it was Epps who spoke.

"Though I am not your officer, I know what he's thinking. You can be a Private, Ms. Rosette, or you can be his leading Weaponry Specialist. Your choice." Said Epps with a grin, but then, on a side note, whispered and pointed at the gun. "I'd go with the latter."

A zap of hope sled through her veins. _Weaponry Specialist? _That would raise her a ranking, no doubt, and she would be getting to work her _dream _job. Suddenly, with Lennox's trust and willingness to let her do this, made her forget about the fact she still had no idea what she would be working on, why it was so classified, _where they were._

"Thank you, sir - Lennox. Captain Lennox."

"Now, there are a couple things we need to go over before you start here. The soldiers you will be making these weapons for aren't exactly, per se, the same body structure as who you might be used to dealing with." He rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure how to explain _just _who he was talking about. Skylar was reminded of all those things she'd forgotten, and held her jaw in more desperation to learn than anything. It was eating away at her on the inside, curiosity. Maybe that's what _really _ killed that cat. "It may be confusing for now, but I need you to do what I asked of you on the chopper."

"Keep an open mind?"

"Exactly." He pat her shoulder, then put a hand on the other, looking at her like a father would to his daughter. He was no longer tough, or scolding, but a caring officer, who though she had a ray of sunlight shinning on for now, would still have to earn her affections. He was alright, for now, for a new person in her life. "Before we get in on the details, is there anything you need for working here? I hate to be so blunt, but with what you'll be doing, you'll be on base more than not. This is a 24/7 offer we're holding out."

Skylar looked at her bag. Beneath the twine and first aid kit, was very little clothing. She had two pairs of jeans, the ones she wore, and another, tougher set, and 3 white t-shirts. She had to go scoping for more to wear soon, that was for sure. She didn't need any tools: again, _she _had never had the technology, but they said they did, so she would put her trust in them to supply her with what she needed.

"No, I mean, I don't think I -" Suddenly, a thought dawned on her. A knee-sized, tail wagging, slobbery thought dawned on her.

Max.

"_Well_, there is _something._ Or, I guess I should say, some_one._"

* * *

**TTTA:**

**Is Skylar just a genius, or is there a specific reason she's got mad science skills? Will she ever really _trust _Lennox? Is she always such a brick wall of encased, badass emotions?**

* * *

**NCP:**

**Skylar gets a tour of the base, makes a new friend, and may accidentally stumble upon something she shouldn't see.  
**


	3. RACES

**HEARTLINES**

* * *

_A/N: Hello again, dear ones! It's Summer, back with, can you believe it, Chapter 3? I've just been so excited to continue, especially with all the response it's been getting. Thank you everyone so much for your kind words and constructive crit., though I've only got a little of it. I might actually be doing something right this time! Haha._

_One word to summarize this chapter: Auuuutobots. And, for your information, I am __sticking a middle finger up to Bayverse killing off the triplets in ROTF - and so, in that case, you can meet one of them here, in the chapter below. Which one? Arcee, Chromia or Elita-One? You'll see. :D_

_ALSO: yes, this story will have Holoforms. -GASP OMG THAT MAKES THIS AN INSTANT MARY SUE STORY- No, I was kidding, it absolutely does not. I do have Holoform chapters planned, but come on, give me some creative writing space, and take a gander at who I have picked on my page. **Just because they have a face claim doesn't mean I will put them down as having some sort of Holoform chapter or meeting either.**_ _It would just be for me, on a personal level, knowing who what they would like like if they did. Holoforms I will actually use for sure will be _**_italicized._**

_All mistakes are the Decepticon's fault, and with that being said, here's a chapter with over 7000 words! Lot's of love!_

_- Summer_

* * *

**CHAPTER 3. RACES  
**[same day: 1600 hours]

* * *

William rapidly learned that the new Skylar Rosette was actually _quite_ a good listener when she wasn't trying to weasel government answers out of him.

Before he got to that point, however, like every transaction that happen in, out, and around the N.E.S.T. Base, it consisted of stacks upon stacks of _paperwork. _She hadn't been permitted to move from her spot for another good half an hour; she was handed a ballpoint pen to fill out his thumb thick of a contract. All the while, Lennox had stepped out of the room himself to quickly send a message to a certain red and blue clad leader that every one of his soldiers needed to return to incognito form until he was given the okay. By the time he returned with a sandwich for the girl who hadn't eaten all day, the last curve of her signature hit the paper, and she was sworn to secrecy.

It was official: whatever she would see, hear, experience, know or not know until permitted to speak of it was classified beyond belief. On a personal level, she believed it was a small price to pay for her to get to do what she loved. She would be lying if she said she wasn't pleased with the outcome of this entire thing.

Also, as promised, she'd got her promotion.

Though it was brief, only a handshake to give her for now after she finished all of her agonizingly boring work and got settled, her position of PFC shifted to SPC, her title claimed by N.E.S.T. Formally from now on, she would no longer be viewed as Private Rosette of Boot's Sniper Squad, or addressed in that manor either, but both seen and heard as N.E.S.T.'s Leading Weapons Specialist Skylar Rosette. It would be a change she would have to get used to, but she wasn't complaining.

As soon as she had completed her coworker 'thanks for this opportunity' smile with Captain Lennox, confirming the deal, she _neatly _stacked away all of her work, placing all of her books, notepads and blueprints back into the binder, then proceeded in hiding them once again in the back compartment of the black pack she zippered shut and locked with a _click. _Lennox had stressed to her the importance of never letting anyone but herself and the soldiers she would be working with see the documents. She wouldn't argue with him, but something in his face screamed the priority that she listened to his request.

"Understood, sir." Responded Skylar, slinging the straps over both her shoulders, gently, due to all the strain on her bad blade. Reaching to her hips to grab the dangling belts, she yanked them tight, securing the backpack from theft. Then, quickly retying her undone shoelaces on her left boot, followed by her fallen hair, she had thrown on a pair of sunglasses from the side pocket of the bag, and had a very sloppy bun hanging from her head. Fixing the leather working gloves on her fingers, she finally gave a ready bob of her head, and followed Lennox to wherever he would want to take her.

Now that she was in the okay to leave, came the hard part:

The tour of Base.

Maybe not difficult for her, for all she had to do was keep her ears and eyes open, and retain what information was being spoken, but for Lennox, it was much more of a challenge. He had the position of carefully telling her as much as he could about what she would be doing here, at Diego Garcia, without telling her just _who _she would be working on. The problem was simple: not yet. She could simply not know about the Autobots just yet, due to the fact that 1, he had yet to ride it by the Mechs themselves to expose their knowledge to someone they had yet to interrogate from afar themselves, and 2, he had yet to run it by his superiors either.

So, perhaps, he was a little behind the 8-ball.

But, like had stated before, she was an attentive listener.

He pointed out little things she should know as they walked side by side through hanger to hanger - one dedicated just to food, because after all, these men and women gotta eat, don't they? She was still happily munching on her BLT that he had brought her (it's contents almost gone in the pits of her stomach), so she paid no mind to the awkward selection table, and more towards the N.E.S.T. Soldiers who stared her down as they passed by. She had been so caught up in slight fear and agitation from this entire thing, that she had momentarily forgotten that it would be like High School all over again.

New kid in a crowd of people who knew each other?

_Instantaneous__ eye-molestation. _She murmured on the inside of her brain, however she did not drop her gaze to the floor like she would have in school. She was anything _but_ awkward now, her chin up just as proudly as it had been 5 minutes ago. She wouldn't let a couple shifty gazes throw her off, even though just beneath the shell, she was unnerved of some conversations to come.

As they continued to the next room and the next and the following after that, she had met and greeted more officers than she could count on both hands and feet, each of them saying they had heard of her excellent sniper track record, and what she could do, and that they were overjoyed to have her join their team. She would smile faintly and shake their hands back, and salute when saluted to. It had become routine so much that when a man about her age, maybe older, approached her, and called her a 'Specialist, ma'am' because she had a higher ranking them him now, her eyes had widened in size, unsure how to respond. Lennox laughed it off, clapping her on the shoulder, and pulled her on.

"Sleeping quarters are down that hall." He motioned the the large double doors that someone shut behind them with two fingers. "A lot of team members go home, but those like you who will be staying more times than not, have your own bunk in there."

Skylar dug her hands down into her pockets, making another mental list of what she had learned so far:

First, to get into Base, you had to either travel by air or car, but by car, it was a _very _long drive with a _lot _of security to go through. Once inside, more security checks, and then there was the flight hanger, where their Air Force Personal resided most of the time with their fighter jets and inside jokes. Leaving through double doors on the opposite wall, came the prep-hall, where when it was time for battle, soldiers grabbed their weapons, their vests and their belongings. Further, deeper in came the food room, then the training hanger, continuing to the officer's headquarters, technological and statistic offices, sleeping bunkers, a couple of abandoned labs, and then -

"And this is the -" Lennox had instantly cut off, throwing a hand out to stop her from walking any more forward. She had been looking at him before, taking in the information she could, but he gazed at what was in front of her. By his anxiously troubled expression, she couldn't contain her nagging curiosity any longer.

Twisting her gaze over his arm, she had expected something spectacularly _classified _to look at (that was the word of the day, wasn't it? Classified?), but all she saw was that it was just a regular automobile hanger. She was no true expert on cars, in fact, she had no knowledge except for brand names, so it was nothing truly special to her at first. Sure, she could look at them and notice how shiny and wonderfully built they were. Skylar could spot a nice, _expensive _vehicle when they fluttered by her and her muddy motorbike on the highway. But if she had to be generic, it was a very large truck, a Peterbilt, wasn't it? Her uncle used to drive one before he died. Next to it sat an Emergency Hummer, it's lights off, awkwardly parked, as if the driver had difficulty. Two little Chevvy boxes sat on either side of a large GMC Truck, and somewhere behind, someone was working on a shaded purple motorcycle.

Other than that, she wasn't sure what to say.

She opened her mouth to inquire, but her commander beat her too it.

"_Sugar_ honey ice tea and roasted toast, uhm,_ you_." He outstretched his arm to point at the man screwing a bolt on the motorcycle. He looked up cautiously when Lennox's voice carried across the walls, motioning to himself with one hand, fingers resting against his chest. William nodded. "Yes you, come here." He directed, practically barking, and throwing his rag over his shoulder, the man made his strut closer. As he approached, Skylar took in his lightly dyed blonde hair, dark brown, angular ethnic eyes and soft smile.

Will grabbed both of their wrists, mashing their hands together to force a handshake. Despite herself, her face heated up at how _direct _her Captain was being about their meeting. It was easy to see the man was well uncomfortable, red ears an offset to the starch white hair that tangled to an end at the nape of neck.

"Private Rosette, this is Sebastian Yin, one of our main mechanics. Mr. Yin: Weapons Specialist Skylar Rosette. You two will be working together a lot soon." Before either could speak, Mr. Lennox had grabbed both their shoulders, and turned them towards the exits. Walking with them, he continued to speak, one of the most fake smiles she had ever seen plastered across his chin gracing her presence. Whatever was about to go down in this room was not for her eyes, she noted, but didn't act on it. If he wanted her to respect his secrets, she _guessed _she would have to, as he had respected hers. "He will be a dear and show you around while I am in a meeting." There was a pause where he gazed at the man, then pursed his lips. "Briefly. He will _briefly _show you around, and somewhere farther out than here. I must speak to someone important in your leave."

"Sir?" Sebastian had looked so perplexed his cheeks inflamed, looking over his shoulder to where the Autobots sat in their Alt. Modes. But, when he looked back, something in his Captain's eyes clicked in the man's brain, and to Skylar's greatest surprise, he grinned. Keeping this act going, throwing his arm around an unsuspecting Ms. Rosette's shoulders, Sebastian squeezed, making her actually _squeak _like a chew toy. "_Oh, _okay, understood, Captain. If you will, Ms. Rosette, I will show you our food court. You've gotta be starving. Despite what some people think of the crappy food here, I really enjoy it."

As they disappeared, all Lennox could hear in the distance was:

"...not really...sandwich...been a little too nervous for that...stupid gun..."

"Alright, coast is clear." He turned to the fancy, quietly sitting vehicles when the pair of Sebastian and Skylar were officially gone from sight. Almost all at the same time, the automobiles sprung to life with a rev. Engines purring like a group of pleasured kitties, all but _one _awoke from stasis upon being called. Lennox turned his gaze at the Black GMC Topkick that was still as stone with a look of displeasure, before sauntering over and smacking his hand down on the hood once. The entire car shuddered under impact, as if it had been shocked by thousands of watts, before slamming to life, engine not purring, more _growling. _"Let's go, out of Alt. Mode, up an' at 'em, boys."

Then, the strangest thing happened.

A whirl of hydraulics, the sound of metal rubbing against metal, a couple of elder grumbles here and there, the sound of shifting gears, and where the Topkick had sat, gathering dust, now _stood _the great and skilled Ironhide, the equivalent of Weapons Specialist Skylar, in mech Form. He was 26 feet tall, armed with so many weapons it was hard to count each one individually, and his optics were narrowed considerably as he starred right back at what someone would call his friend, others would call his one true human brother. Finally, all of his metal plates snapped into place, and he was a towering warrior.

"Unwise move, William." He grumbled under his breath, voice deep, but hazy, as if it came through an HD radio, but a radio all the same. It sounded, well, almost_sleepy _as well, and Lennox clicked his tongue once at how much of a drama queen his (_non_) truck was. William himself gave the ceiling an amused stare, turned around, and waved a hand as if to get the mech off his back. Yet, from behind where he had stood a second before, he could hear the increased hum of a battle cannon springing to life. "You wanna do something about it?"

Will turned back, lips forming a tight line. His eyebrow popped up.

"What are you going to do about?" He teased the Mech, and when the cannon began to squeal and shine bright blue, not just hum and woosh in warning, Lennox shuffled back a step cautiously, hands going up besides himself. Subconsciously, the man knew his friend would never do it, but his own nerves were as fried as Skylar's had been for the day. The Autobot waited a moment, then roared with laughter at that one, saying something about Little Will's face looking more frightened than Annabelle's on bath night. Finding the joke anything but amusing, knowing _perfectly well _what Anna's face looked like on those days, Captain scoffed once and turned away. "Oh, bug off you big metal -"

"I would like to point out that your phrasing is incorrect."

The motorcycle that had been tinkered on by Mr. Sebastian shook out, removing itself, or, _herself _from her Alternate Mode, finally standing to a stretch, snapping into place. When she was done transforming into something much greater than a bike, she continued with her arms folded behind her back. Out of all of her sisters, Lennox found Arcee to be one of the most hard to come to terms with. Never piss off a woman, and especially when they're wired to more ammo than he could get his fingers on, and _especially _after she was just toyed with by her least favorite mechanic. Why she didn't like Sebastian she wouldn't officially say, but he gathered it had something to with what she once had called his 'meaty hands'.

"Though we are not human and your saying of 'up and at them, guys' is a generic terminology," Continued Arcee, walking up to join the others, "my sisters and I are not mechs, and I wish you would remember that. We may fight like them, but we do have _some _class."

Lennox put his hands up higher, once more shuffling away. This time, he meant it just a little more than he did with Ironhide. He'd had his share of angered females for the day, and didn't want any more. In fact, all he wanted was aspirin or a _really _hard drink. Perhaps if he got released early for the day, he would have Sarah pick up _both._

"Apologies, Arcee. It won't happen again."

Though he couldn't pick up everything she had said after that, Arcee mumbled something that sounded awfully like: "You said that last time." Pretending he hadn't heard it to begin with, trying to doge awkward and a banter that was wasting time, he turned to the next 'Bot to speak. It was the small, red Chevrolet Trax that was no longer that, but like it's twin in Green, Mudflap (twin, being Skids).

"Speakin'a '_lil_ _ladies,_" Unlike both Ironhide and Arcee, who spoke with more normal American tongue, sophisticated, at the very least, Mudflap and his Twin found themselves using more street slang dialect. Not, to say, that they minded. It only made things more entertaining for the two trouble makers, "I _can__not_ be the on'y one who noticed Newbie-_Nancy_." He did a small dance, hips shaking, ignoring his twin who had scoffed loudly, cracking his knuckles. "_Awh, yeah,_ it'd be a dayum shame if we've gotta' get rid of 'er."

There was the sound of metal smacking metal as Skids beat his brother in the shoulder once, making the red Autobot flip on his back.

"We all 'ave seen 'er, _stupid_. That's why we're not _showin_' ourselves." Skids very humanly had motioned to himself to add emphasis as he hovered over, ignoring his brother's comment of: '_ey, man, d'at ain't cool. Let a brother be happy._ However, though he'd just took him to the ground, he held out his arm for the Bot to take. And when the two Twins were standing again, Skids added something very quietly, beginning to plot away with his Evil Identical as his arm was tossed around his brother's shoulder. "Not yet." He pointed at the their leader, who had finally removed himself from Alt. Mode, and was standing tall and proud. "But, if we be good, Opto mi' not see us exit."

"Brotha', I like the way you thi -"

"No." Lennox shook his hands up at them, getting their attention, getting _everyone's _attention. The same as a frown showed up on both of the Twin's mouthplates at being denied their exposure plot, and Mudflap began to protest. Will still continued on over him, despite his size, voice carrying quiet far. "No. Again, no, no, no, no. Rethink that thought, rethink it again, and then don't think on it at all." Crossing his arms over his chest as he turned away to speak to the entire group, and not just the Trouble Twins from Hell, Will was greeted with a couple confused mumbles, minus perhaps Ratchet and Optimus Prime himself. "We will let her know in time, but for now, you are still as classified as if you weren't even real."

Ironhide winced.

"A wound to our pride."

Will was close enough to him now that he pat Ironhide's foot supportively.

"Though I'm sure we all _do_ trust your judgment, William, I must insist from curiosity on why we do not just let her know right away what she will be dealing with?" Ratchet stroke up the confusion of the entire team that may or may not have been expressed by comm link, and not spoken, though when he did finally release what they were all perplexed about aloud, his voice was gruff, a slight accent bleeding through. "We _are _her test subjects, are we not?" He briefed, and it was Lennox's turn to wince at his wording, hands digging into his pockets. Though Ratchet didn't mean it, there was a snap to his tone that clearly stated that he was still not officially sure about what they were doing. "Is that not what we agreed to?"

"You're not test subjects." Lennox promised, voice strained with truth. "You will never be test subjects. You're soldiers, damn good ones, and she is only here to help you guys _create_ what you need to fulfill those duties, like you wished. You will _never _be test subjects."

It was Optimus who finally spoke up after all the Autobots were taken aback by Lennox's very pretty, sparkwarming speech. Even the twins and Arcee could take his words to heart kindly, and maybe they were also just a little more lenient on him for the rest of the day too.

"Then she lived up to your, our, expectations, Lennox?" Optimus wondered about the non-interview/interrogation that Specialist Skylar had gone through just an hour before, voice baritone and gruff, very American. He designated in a proud aura, holding himself in a way that anyone who gazed at the Autobots knew he was leader, despite his towering height over the others. His arms falling behind his back as he restarted the conversation, Optimus's blue optics gazed down at his team's main ally. Lennox, who despite himself, had his ears turn red.

"Right on spot, Optimus." He admitted of his new member, hearing the _zip, zip, zip _of the gun she'd shot with in the back of his head as it hit the titanium through the target sheet. He could see her flustered, furious face as he pointed a gun at her, but yet, was still able to work under pressure, no, work under pressure in 15 _seconds _on a gun that was almost completely destroyed. "She _exceeded _my expectations." He spoke very highly of her, the Autobots realized, and it took quite a large personality to make Will get _excited _over them joining his team. Not to say that he wasn't happy with any specific members of N.E.S.T., but some were more difficult than others.

Ironhide chuckled. He would have to see for himself how this little fleshy _really _was at weaponry for himself, especially at how pleased Lennox was.

"I," Continued the man, "only wish to observe her in her natural working station for a while before I put your, literal, arms out on the line for her to tinker with your weaponry." Skids found that one punny, and spoke on it. Lennox ignored him with the second eye roll of the meeting. "Besides, she's had an extremely stressing day as it is. I think we should let her have a while to get used to the scene before she is introduced to you guys."

Ratchet raised his hand to bring the attention back to him, and when he had it, he nodded in thanks.

"I was already out of stasis when she entered, but I did not react for obvious reasons. I ran a couple of tests on her, body wise. Her stress levels are quite complex, and I even detected a foreign sense of fear, however she did not show much emotion on her face, unlike most humans, and even soldiers, who are going through a weighing event. I agree with Lennox to wait for a formal introduction; she will need to calm down, or she may not be okay in the results."

"She's got a good mask, Rach." Agreed Will, once more thinking about the not _really _interrogation room, and how her expression had changed perhaps twice: from angry, to intent on listening. "She's young, but she's strong-willed."

"That doesn't solve the problem of her learning of the existence of the Autobots." Persisted Arcee, throwing her voice into the mix to make sure her thoughts were being heard as well. "I has to be sooner versus later, William."

"Perhaps," Spoke a new voice, who had been quiet silent the entire time. Will hadn't even realized he was in the hanger when they had first entered, for he had been hidden somewhat behind Ironhide, deep in stasis. Only now did he finally put his ideas on the table, and Captain Lennox turned to face the electrowhipped Autobot, "if we sent someone to continually watch her and give feedback for if and when she was ready?" Jolt amended, and only half of the team agreed with that notion, Lennox himself not being one of them.

"A noted notion, a good idea," He promised when Jolt grumbled, "but we also don't want to start off on the wrong foot with her either, and not have her cooperate because we've been stalking at her." Lennox pursed his lips, eyes narrowing ever so. Not at them, but the female of topic. "She's young, as I stated, and though may look controlled, she is also stubborn, quite sarcastic, snarky -"

"Sounds like you, lil' bitc -" Mudflap had begun the insult, but Ironhide smacked him on the back of the head so hard, the 'Bot was on the floor yet again. Saving the conversation from going sour, Optimus regained control with a look to both the Twins, Ironhide, and then William himself, who were all silent when their leader needed to be heard.

"We understand, Lennox. We're just running out of time. After the death of Megatron in Mission City, his allies scattered across your globe. In the recent events of Egypt," The Autobots shifted awkwardly, thinking of how Optimus hadn't been Optimus at all, until brought back from, well, _offline_. The leader himself didn't change his stance once, "he has gone into hiding, along with those allies who aided his return. Yet, we have all come to the conclusion that they have been showing up in the recent year more frequently every month. I can only believe that this is no coincidence, and that if we do not act soon, there will be an issue."

"I get it, Big Man." Lennox nodded, truly understanding. He had been in all the same debriefings and _battles _with the Autobots, as one of the head honchos of N.E.S.T. himself. Lennox put a hand on his chest, the other up, as if he was taking oath. "Sooner than later, agreed, I swear on my honor. All of your weaponry that was damaged and destroyed will be fixed that you couldn't do yourselves, remade, whatever is needed. She can do it; I know she can."

Once again, the Autobots were brought to silence by his words.

"Now," He clapped his hands together when the quiet lasted too long for his liking, "that you all are here, I do have to ask - wait, I lied, where's Swipes and Bee?" He inquired, turning in a complete circle, as if he had missed to Autobots who didn't want to speak. But they were no where in sight, and when he looked back at the allies suspiciously, _all _of them took a turn sharing looks on how to tell him, even Optimus, who in the end put his hands up defeat, rather than let himself get chewed out by the army man. There came a point where even the fearless leader wouldn't step on the wrong side of Lennox, which, was about to show.

William's eye twitched.

"We have a potential secrecy threat on scene, and _none_ of you know where -" He'd started in on them, Mudflap taking it on himself to hide behind his brother, who'd hidden behind Ironhide, who scoffed at them, cannons flaring, but before any drama exploded all over the walls like it would have if they let this continue, it was Rachet who spoke up, once more holding out his hand for response.

"I have contacted both of them, freeze your boosters. They are," If Ratchet could smile like a human, he would have been. For now, his mouthplates mirrored a grin as realistically as Lennox _would _have been, if this was good news he was delivering, "as they do in your Earth universe: _speed __racing _in their Alt. Modes."

* * *

"- and this," Sebastian threw his arms out sarcastically, making Ms. Rosette giggle at his antics, "is what surrounds this place."

Squinting one brown eye in the illuminating light of the sun bouncing off the pavement like a basketball would, his outstretched arm came over his forehead to block his face, creating some relieving shade from the UV rays that hovered back at him. Skylar didn't need do that; her sunglasses looked tiny, but were _very _expensive, and _very _sturdy. For the first time since she'd arrived here, because of her new friend, she actually smiled quite profoundly. If they were going to work together soon, she wouldn't mind. He was extremely witty. It would keep it all interesting.

"Lot's and lot's and _lot's _of dirt." Finalized Sebastian, proving that point, taking a few steps back into the shade to attempt to keep cool. He could feel sweat dripping from his neck already, mostly because he was still in his blue and grey jumpsuit from working in the shop. She was in leather boots and jeans all the same, so after a final inhale, taking in the feeling of the sun and outside and _freedom, _she stepped back under with him. It was the very beginning of summer, June 3rd, so the sun was eccentric and ready to shine.

"That would explain why I'm still picking it from my hair." She chuckled softly, fingers shaking throughout the raven colored ponytail that, if on cue, began to sprinkle with sand and dust. It would take her a couple showers to get it all out, she was sure. Though she would only keep it to herself, she was still uncomfortable with the fact they had put her under, and let her fall out of the chopper like she had. It wasn't going to be good evening with her shoulder, and washing away all this grime would suck _majorly. _She didn't even realize she had oil still smeared on her chin from holding the screwed rifle, either.

Sebastian tapped his chin:

"That's right, they sedated you, didn't they?" He snorted, and when he gazed at her frown from the corner of his eye, he burst into laughter, turning around a bend on the wall to walk on the outside edge of the building. They could hear something up ahead, and whatever it was, subconsciously they both drifted towards it.

Eyes narrowing just a little at his current state of exploding snickers, she flexed her hands down to her sides, curling them ever so lightly into fists.

"Indeed."

"Don't sweat it. It's not the first time it's happen here." He was no longer laughing, not looking at her either to signal he'd noticed her stony change in character. In fact, he was looking at the group of soldiers dressed in every day wear clad, about 100 feet ahead, the ruckus behind all the noise they'd been hearing from the other side of the wall. As they approached, both intrigued despite direct orders to keep the tour _brief, _he continued to speak. "We used to be stationed at Diego Garcia, but there were some issues with transporting the -"

They had arrived, and when they did, Skylar peeked over the shoulder of one of the soldiers, eyebrows raising at what she found. So many people, just to watch_this? _Sebastian, on the other hand, cursed his bad luck and gulped down something the size of a grape. Turning completely to her from behind, he wiped the sweat of his mouth and forehead, eyes so wide in worry he wasn't sure what to say. He reached, as if to put his hands on her shoulders and yank her away, but he then thought better of it, in fear she'd drop him to the ground. Instead, biting his knuckle and quickly thinking of what to do, he did a small 360, somewhere in the back of his mind hearing her speak.

"Racing, huh?" She whistled, slightly amused by the whole thing. "Not much to do around here on down time, is there?"

Sebastian couldn't help it. He peeked over his shoulder, just to see a glimpse, before he made a choice, and there they sat, gleaming and noble. It made his stomach drop, and immediately regret it.

In the illuminated and hard to look at in the blinding light of the late afternoon day, two humming vehicles sat in neutral. For what reason, no one knew, but what they_did _know is that a spectacular race of perfectly fine engines was about to take place. Perhaps to build momentum or, perhaps, somewhere deep inside that no one else could hear, they were communicating, but they had been sitting there for 5 good minutes, refusing to budge, even when soldiers prompted them to move. The first, closest to them, was a sleek, metal dripped silver Corvette, the brightest of the two. Skylar could only look at it out of the corner of her eye due to the sun's reflection off it's paint job, so she directed her attention to the next: a Chevvy Camaro, entirely yellow, despite the two black stripes down the center. It too was difficult to gaze at, so she looked to Sebastian for direction.

"They're not supposed to be doing that." He finally was able to stutter out. Patting her head once, he turned over his shoulder, practically making a beeline for the door. "Stay here! Don't move! Don't talk to anyone!"

And with that strange request, he was gone.

Skylar's attention was suddenly brought back to the two cars when the sprung to life, engines practically roaring in response to the people who had crowded left and right. Whoever was driving was hitting the gas pretty hard, revving like a professional. The soldiers hooted and hollered all around her at the official prep to the race, and ignoring Sebastian's voice in the back of her mind telling her not to move and not to talk to anyone, she quickly wiggled through the man that had blocked her view, and stood with her hands behind her back next to a soldier who leaned over to his friend.

"5 bucks on Bee." She could hear him call over the noise, cupping his hands so his partner could listen. She struggled to stay attentive herself, especially when the two automobile stopped revving, and were waiting for some sort of okay. "Sideswipe is fast, but Bee's determined." The man to her right finally moved back into his spot, straightening up, however in the process, he bashed elbows with her, practically jabbing her in the side on accident. Turning his attention to the shorter female next to him, his eyebrows raised, and he frowned a little. "Apologies, were we blocking you view?"

She only shook her head. He was a good half a foot taller than her, which displeased her, however she cursed her long family line of shorter women for that one. His hair was matted with water from being outside for so long, the same shade as hers, however, and his eyes were the same blue as the sky. His face was beaded with sweat, and his nose and cheeks were red, however not in a blushing way or heat induced. It looked natural.

"Is Bee and Sideswipe last names of the drivers?" She inquired gently, not answering him, only trying to get answers. It's become a habit; she made a mental note to introduce herself formally when she got them.

"You're kidding, right?" He laughed out a little, but when he realized she wasn't when she shook her head no, sincerely confused with a small pout of her bottom lip, he cleared his throat and added in: "You must be new here. Well, that's -" He began to point, but his friend he had leaned at before hand smacked his arm, making him jolt as if he'd been shocked.

"Wait," Said the voice, and she had to lean around the man who rubbed his arm to see the other. When she did, she wished she hadn't, as he had a large grin plastered across his face, in such a manor like he knew a dirty, _dirty _secret that she honestly didn't want to hear, "you're that extremely classified sniper, aren't you?" He wagged his bushy, thick brown eyebrows, and she didn't answer immediately. Her reflexive brain forced to look and take in his features: tall as his friend, but skin so tan, she wondered what his ethnic backgrounds were. His head was full of bushy hair, but it looked quite shaved down, and unlike his friend who mumbled something very inappropriate in irritation, he was all muscle and bronze, where the murmurer was more lanky and pale.

Skylar exhaled through her nostrils, quickly crossing her arms over her chest. If it was to look more proud, or self-consciously, no one but herself would ever know.

"I would believe so."

"This," A voice carried behind her, deep yet raspy, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She knew from familiarity, but also because both men stood a little straighter and a little more controlled. She kept her face straight, the same way as them, but instead of looking at Lennox, she gazed upon the cars that revved their engines again at getting a referee on each end, "gentlemen," Continued Will kindly yet strong, "is our new Weapons Specialist Skylar Rosette." She saluted them sarcastically with two fingers, in turn, made both men laugh under their breath.

"Ms. Rosette:" Her attention finally changed to Lennox, who seemed calm enough. She hoped his meeting went well. He motioned to the raven haired soldier, who saluted her in the same way she had him, "Corporal Joey - though we all call him Santa - Santossteffano, and this," the other 'this' followed the same movement as his friend, the one with the buzzed head, "is Corporal Gabriel Newman. You all are E-4's."

"An honor to meet you, ma'am." They both said at the same time without meaning to, then glared at each other in unison, and may have started a banter contest, until -

_"Kick his ass, Bumblebee!"_

_"Let's go, let's go, let's go Sides!"_

And then the two cars shot off, taking everyone's attention with them.

* * *

Inside the Camaro that wasn't a Camaro at all, there was no driver either.

Like the Autobots in their Alt. Mode, the only difference was simply that Bumblebee was in anything but stasis. Zooming ahead of Sideswipe like a champion at first off, hooked up to internal comm. link, the little warrior was more than gloating about his lead. However, everyone watched from afar as Sideswipe took what some were calling a 'dick move': he was drifting behind be to get more speed. Trying to shake him, it didn't work, and up ahead, some good half a mile, Bumblebee could see through his sensors the human ref. that shook a big red finish flag.

_Stay off my aft, Sideswipe, and quit cheating._ The comm. link suddenly exploded with Bee's agitated, exaggerated voice. To a human, it would have sounded like complete and utter gibberish, but to a Cybertronian, it made perfect sense. _Drifting should be illegal._

There was a throaty laugh, and yet Sideswipe didn't let up at all. The Camaro made a furious noise.

_What's that Earth saying? All is fair in love and war?_

Jerking out of the way when it was just too much for Bee to handle anymore, the wheel inside twisting into a 180, that got Sideswipe all on his own, and Bumblebee behind and driving to his right. Making a very dangerous 360 to get back in it, there was still room to win if he pushed himself. Punching the gas even harder, already going a good well number over 100, Sideswipe and Bee were fast in battle to see who was going to actually dominate this race to make up for their tie last time.

_Are you proclaiming your desire for me?_

Bee was witty, teasing, sarcastic as he took the lead, cutting Sideswipe off, but the Corvette wasn't just going to give up like that.

_Of course, Honey Bee. _He practically cooed, and Bumblebee made a strangled noise at a petty nickname like that. He lost concentration for just a second, trying to come up with a bantering response, but by then, Sideswipe saw his opportunity and took it. _Lo__ve is sacrifice, so hasta la vista, baby!_

Zig-zagging around the yellow vehicle, the finish line was just a head, and Sideswipe was going to take it.

_Slag it._

And then it was over, and Sides had won, and Bee slammed on the brakes to finish with pride instead of slowing off. The comm. link was full of Sideswipe proclaiming his victory like a precious child, and a silent Bumblebee who suffered defeat like a punch in the faceplate. However before they could remove themselves from Alt. Mode and remove the sand from their gears and wheels, a strong, independent voice interrupted their childish conversation of who cheated and who didn't.

_Sideswipe and Bumblebee, I must demand you refrain from transforming until I give the okay._ It was Optimus, and the two soldiers hushed, ready to take orders._Lennox has given strict orders to stay in alternate mode until we are able to debrief N.E.S.T.'s new Human Weapons Specialist who is unfortunately in the crowd._

Perfectly fine with this, used to the Nevada sand getting stuck from when he had been with Sam in Tranquility before his adventure to college, Bumblebee made a U-turn and made his way back. However, Sideswipe wasn't as keen to stay like this, dirt and heat in all the wrong places.

_But, awh man, Optimus, there's sand in my wheels! _He protested, yet he turned to go back to the start as well, and their link was intruded on again by a different Autobot who he himself was in his Alt. Mode in the Automobile Hanger.

_Shoulda' thought of that one before you decided to race, punks._ Obviously, the person to break Optimus off was Ironhide. _You're going to have to deal._

One could almost feel how smug Bumblebee was through their comm. And, it only got worse when he added:

_Ha, looks like you lost anyways._

By then, he and Sideswipe had reached the hanger, where some people were happily holding their hands out, the other's not so much pleased, placing money in the open palms. For example, Corporals Santossteffano and Newman, but that's not what intrigued the two 'Bots at all. The two friends were just as bad as the Twins. It was the new face: short, angular chin, black hair and a blank expression as she turned her attention from Lennox, to the approaching vehicles. She didn't react to them much, except for one thing.

Skylar just smiled.

* * *

**TTTA:**

**When will Lennox think Skylar is ready to meet the Autobots? How will she react?**

* * *

**NCP:**

**Skylar gets a visitor, her first assignment, and might learn something she never knew before.**

* * *

**A/N: To 'a Humble Reader' reviewer:**

**Thank you so, so, so, so, so much for the review. It seriously got me a little teary-eyed, and I hardly ever cry in the first place. You were extremely sweet and nice, and made my day reading it. It meant a lot to hear that Skylar was liked, and not completely annoying like some of my other OC's are. xD I'm working very hard to make sure she's stay as non-Mary Sue as possible. So again, thank you.**

**I currently do not have a Beta, because I've had some bad run-in's with them before, however I plan on scanning my word a couple more times before I submit. And even, I'm sure I'll have more mistakes. It's those damn Decepticons, I'm telling you.**

**I'll be looking forward to seeing and hearing from you!**

**- Summer**


	4. SECRETS

**HEARTLINES**

* * *

_A/N: Hello everyone! It's Summer again, with a big fat THANK YOU in order for my lovely readers. I've had so many follows, favorites and reviews come flying in that I've been fighting off writer's block to get this sucker on out before I completely loose it all! Haha, so, kisses for you, here is the new chapter!_

_So, before you read: Yay, we finally get a couple new sides of Skylar! So far, we've seen her badass, straight faced, slightly angered self. In this one, I think we expierence some happiness, some longing for her family, some fear and a whole_ bunch _of anger. Why? Well, you'll just have to **read and**_** see.**

_Another thing! Just like I have posted all of the holoforms on my blog (link on my profile page), I have also posted the link for some of my OC's for Heartlines as well. All the Autobots and Decepticons have been added, but what about my thought babies? **It gives you a small preview into the future chapters for the OC's, so go take a look!**_

_Once more, thank you SO much for all the wonderful feedback, and keep it coming! I love it so much to see a review in my Email. Have fun with this **super long chapter!**_

_P.S. - All mistakes are blamed on Megatron._

* * *

**CHAPTER 4. SECRETS  
**[a week and a day later: 1500 hours]

* * *

N.E.S.T. stood corrected; they didn't get 1 new, extremely well trained, controlled, friendly soldier that day.

They got 2.

Though maybe the second one was shorter, _much _shorter than the average war hero, and couldn't very well speak to give or receive orders, _and_ was more furry than some of the men who refused to shave, but he was a soldier all the same. He was loyal, exceedingly loyal to his main commanding officer, would go or move or sit or lay wherever he was directed without question because it would be the right thing to do. And, well, there was never a _frown _on his face either. He was rookie, still needed to learn the ropes, sights, scents of the place, but so did Soldier Number 1, so they could help each other out in that unknown department.

However, even if he was a soldier, he was always Man's Best Friend first.

Or, _woman's _best friend, especially when she was as stressed as she was in this moment. His perked up ears went from popped up upon his fuzzy skull, to pressed against his forehead.

"I need _that,_ right there," Skylar instructed through her teeth, clenching a rubber band between her front incisors. She lamely pointed an elbow to her left as she threw her hair up in a tight bun. Her helper, a Mr. Santossteffano, hurriedly wafted in that direction, the huge, hefty box proceeding to be slapped down in the corner. Max sat quietly against a wall, panting a little at the heat of the N.E.S.T. Base, but attentive just in case she needed him, "and that -" Finally, with two free hands, she took the large box of industrial equipment from Sebastian, and sat it down on her main, shiny steel desk. It was already overflowing with papers and journals and _knowledge _so much that it was hard to find a decent spot without smushing what was underneath, "goes over here."

Maxwell the Dog shook out the dust and sweat from his coat when his person huffed out air in one big groan, practically throwing herself down in the leather working chair to take a break from her extensive organizing. He could hear her shoulder blade make that very strange cracking noise he had yet to understand as she rolled it, wincing right along with her. Pawing over, collar jingling, to where she rubbed her temples with her thumbs, he circled her desk once, sniffing for anything suspicious, and, perhaps, from curiosity as well.

"Finished." Skylar rubbed the back of her neck, waving goodbye to Sebastian who answered his walkee-talkee and had to excuse himself immediately to help someone named Prim or Prime or something?

Honestly, she didn't know, and _really_ didn't care. She had yet to memorize any of the other soldier's names, let alone their last or nicknames. Besides, that is, the very few friends she had made so far in the process of the last weeks events of transporting in things she would need for work. Those thing in locked boxes were brought into base secretly to most eyes, and followed Classified Protocol as close to the books as possible. No one would know what she would be doing until instructed to tell, and only less than a handful knew the truth, despite the rumors. Those special few being: Joey (who cursed loudly as he kicked a cardboard box and something within jabbed him back), his friend Gabriel, who had been helping her as well, but had to leave for a mission debrief, Sebastian, and, of course, Lennox and Epps (in which, _he _was no longer on Base anyways).

"Christ, that took _forever._" She mumbled right in between a headache, hearing to her right as Joey made a retort she ignored. Max, finally finished with his adventure around her new work desk, place his head on her thigh, tail wagging slowly back and forth. He gazed at her leisurely, tongue licking her bare leg. His eyes read: _The boy is obnoxious; I love you, my person._

Skylar couldn't help it. Her frown flipped itself to a smile, and her fingers threaded behind his ears, ruffling the hair there until he collapsed onto his belly in content. His chin rested upon her boots, covered in wet dirt, but he didn't care on bit. He looked tired for a dog, eyes drooping.

"I know, Max." She almost whispered, her voice low as she pat his backside as well. "It's different here than home, but you're lucky that you're even allowed on base."

He rolled onto his back, paws up, waiting for a belly rub he knew she would give, as a way of saying he'd forgive her, per say. At his movements, the weaponry technician snickered a little and slid from the chair like putty, onto the cold, concrete floor. Her bare legs criss-crossed, boots tucked under her knees. Her shorts were a pair of light blue ripped jeans she had been forced to cut up when the Nevada Base's heat was just about throwing her into a heatstroke. Though she kept her face and actions controlled and straight most of the time, there was nothing that made her smile more than her dog.

"That's a good boy."

"You talk to your dog?" A sarcastic voice carried over her desk, and her smile turned into a pair of sourly pursed lips as she flicked her shaded green eyes over her shoulder distastefully. Joey with his dark black hair and pretty blue eyes was leaning against her desk, working glove-covered hands pressed against the top as he gazed down at them. One of his bushy eyebrows was cocked skywards, and it made her look at the ceiling in amusement.

"You talk?" She responded in the same witty tone, scratching her dog's ears for another time with her nails. He watched Joey like he was still very unsure if friend of foe.

"Ha," Muttered the man, irritated that she'd responded so smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest with a look. There was one thing he had learned about the very strange new sniper, and it was that she was a _basket _full of sarcastic comments if you hit her in just the right way to release them. It was a challenge he accepted when they clicked as friends on that first day. He came around the side of the desk to where the pistol and her dog were, and proceeded to sit in the chair behind Specialist Rosette in which she had left wide open just for him, so it seemed, "Ha, ha, Rosette, you're _hilarious._"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead, felt her watch upon her arm vibrate. Looking at it, she noted it was 1500 hours, or, 3:00. In 10 minutes, she had a meeting with Lennox about some of her work. So, giving her puppy a final pat, she stood easily and cracked her knuckles against her back as she stretched.

"Shut it, Santa, and fetch me my backpack, will you?" She waved him out of her spot at his protesting, taking it back over and sliding up on the desk to begin unloading the box smack dab in the center. She made a comment about her seat being awkwardly warm, which he ignored like she had him with his side snark, looking for the black backpack that was a big center of her rumors. He wasn't at liberty to share anything she told him, due to many problems he would face, and out of respecting her job, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening to those who spoke quietly about the new soldier with an unknown past, and an unknown future as well.

"What's in it?" He finally locked his fingers on it's strap from where it had been dropped in an empty box, dragging the entire thing over to where she was stationed. He found her carefully placing journals in piles, files in others, and every once and a while letting her eyes flicker to a small picture frame next to a tiny white lamp. Inside the glass was an angled and worn down Polaroid of what he guessed was Skylar's mother and father in front of a large house, with a younger version of the female on his side herself, standing with a huge smile in between the two adults. Next to her, despite Skylar's black hair that matched her father's, was a blonde female he could only guess was her sister. And, finally, in their arms was an even _tinier_ version of Max.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed him watching what she was doing, as well as her picture, and was quick to respond:

"What's inside, you wonder? The blood of my enemies."

"Sounds legit." Looking away from her person items, he snorted once, and then just _couldn't_ help himself, and burst into loud laughter at her straight expression and tone. It was a kind of chuckle that made even her break her attitude and leak into a beam herself. Taking the backpack and setting it next to her without another ask of what was inside, Joey rest himself against her desk, watching as stood and started tucking things away in the key-locked drawers. "So," He drawled out, hands digging into his pockets, "is it true?"

She slowed her roll, hands coming to a pause on the journal labeled _mechanics and hybrid theories _in black Sharpie, eyebrows popping up on her forehead. She was a bit taken aback by such a vague question, and was unsure how to follow up at first.

"That's a very _wide_ scope of honesty you're looking for, Joey." Continued Rosette hesitantly yet finally, generating enough sense to continue her placing of books and paperwork into their new homes. "You'll have to speak up what you're thinking." She finished, crushing the box into a flat platform when it was empty, and tossing it upon the others that had suffered the same fate upon finding themselves clear of things she needed. She took her seat once more as he played with an un-sharpened pencil, corners of his lips perking up. Skylar grabbed her water bottle, sunk in on one side, half full, and took a gulp.

"You shot at Lennox and forced him to let you join the team."

The water left her body as she coughed out, eyes turning wide at the accusation - no, the _rumor._

If anything, _Lennox _had _threatened _to shoot _her!_

Skylar did an actual spit take, having to shut her mouth in her black jacket sleeve to stop the obnoxious choking noise she was making. Mr. Santossteffano made a move to pat her back, feeling a little guilty, but she held out a warning hand for him to not come any closer. When she was done, her breath hard to catch, she thought about grabbing her inhaler, but another part of her shoved that thought straight from her brain. Not here, not in front of Joey - a friend she still barely knew. It would actually hurt her a little if she would have to show him that side of her.

Max whimpered upon her feet as he scooted closer.

"_What?_" Her throat was a quirky little rasp, and her fingers came to press against her collarbone incredulously. It really _was _like High School here; she wondered what other absolutely _false _stories were going around about her. "Where on _Earth_ did you hear this?"

"Passing rumor." He quickly spoke, diverting his gaze away from her red eyes and her loud wheezing, waving a hand to release the conversation. She was a tad bit glad for that, and now hurriedly reached for her bag, and, more importantly, her inhaler. She didn't want to show him this weakness, but she had no choice, or she knew she'd go into a state of gasping _no _one should see. He pretended just for her confidence and ego to momentarily find interest in that pencil again, chipping the end, and she was more than grateful as she returned to normal. All the dry air was making it _so _hard to keep her breaths normal, and though her ego was now punctured, she would have to ignore it.

There was a long moment of silence where she dropped all conversation, and began drawing out equations on a notebook page half full of them. He teetered on asking her what he _really _wanted to know, or not while she truly calmed down. In the end, he couldn't keep as controlled as she could, and broke, putting the pencil back down where he found it.

"So what _did_ you do?"

Surprisingly, maybe because she was just too tired to argue or dismiss him, or maybe, just maybe, she actually trusted him enough to not go and blab away what had transpired between her and Lennox, she jumped into a condensed version of the non-interview interview between her and her Captain (who, she was late in meeting) from start to finish. From sedation upon arrival to a handshake to secure her departure from everything she'd once known. She explained what she had been before in Captain Boot's Sniper Brats, and what she would be doing now with N.E.S.T. By the time she had completed her story, she had nothing left in her hands but a rubik cube she completed in less than 10 seconds. She had cleaned up while talking, hiding away her classified data.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're serious?" She didn't respond, not entirely sure how, so he took it as a big fat _yes._ "Fuck you, I want to be that awesome - I mean, _where_ did you learn that, taking apart a weapon and actually _fitting _it into another?"

"Were you not listening, or...?" Though she sounded peeved, a part of her was completely okay with the fact that he found what she could do interesting, rather than something to be afraid of. He would never wound her pride like that by voicing it, but he could see that fact pooling in her pupils and slightly red ears. Honestly, Skylar herself found Joey to be an easy person to talk to, and could tell they would be good friends off and on the battlefield. He was the type of person that you could immediately know they'd have your back if the room suddenly caught on fire.

And that, was something she found honorable beyond belief.

"I never learned it. I've just always known." She continued, sounding almost bored, tossing her feet upon the table when Max moved to go inspect something at the door.

However, though she might have _sounded _bored instead of upset by this point, Skylar allowed one more stolen glance at the picture by the light, picking her nails as she gazed upon the smiling faces of her family a little more than 4 years ago. It had been just when her and her sister, Anastasia, had been leaving for college, placing behind them their parents and young, junior days, and continuing on to fulfill their lives, dreams and ambitions.

Skylar, finishing with her Bachelors in Technological Science, then abandoning college to join the army, had done exactly what she'd wanted with herself, and was proud of where she was now. Anastasia, with her teaching degree for English, and an extremely steady and happy relationship with her girlfriend, now lived in New York City, teaching High School students about Shakespeare and Homer. They had an older brother, Jonathan, who was a Radio Broadcaster for a Sports Team in Florida as well.

It would seem like family had parted ways for a long time, but it all changed 2 years ago when Skylar's father, a police officer in her home town, was trying to stop a man from robbing a supermarket, and unfortunately was shot in the line of duty.

There had been a funeral in the middle of a summer shower back in Delaware, where they were all from. Skylar on her own, Anastasia and her lovely other: Marina, Jonathan, his wife and son, all showed up, along side their mother, who was now a widow. After the ceremony where goodbyes were said and done, Skylar was approached by her teary-eyed mother, asking if she could take over for the care of Maxwell. He was a police dog, part of the K-9 unit with her father, and Skylar had been the only one of the Rosette's to learn all of the sayings and commands the lonely dog knew.

Skylar hadn't thought twice about it. Maxwell and her moved in together in an apartment in New York, near where Anastasia lived, and since then, had moved and changed more times than she could count, due to her work.

A part of Skylar wondered how long she would be stationed with N.E.S.T. before the next move, or if she would finally have a final unit.

"Maybe," She spoke again, her words gentle and slow as she recovered, very rapidly realizing she'd zoned out with an awkward cough and a scratch behind her neck, "because my father was a police officer I picked things up, but other than that -" Rosette shrugged her bony shoulders, peering over at the door where Max began scratching at it. There was noise on the other end, so she gathered either he wanted to know just what was happening on the opposing, or, he just had to tinkle. Either way, the puppy had once more made her smile. "That, is where I got Max. He used to be his dog."

Joey didn't need to know her past to understand the past-_tense_ she'd used, and understood that for some reason, her father was no longer able to take care of the dog who whimpered, and sat by the exit. He opened his mouth, to say what, they'd never know, for down in his many pockets of the belted camo pants, his phone buzzed. It's echoing noise like a tractor and the little light began flashing. He pulled it out of the patch upon his knee, read the ID, and stood.

"Well, I think Newman needs me." Snickered the soldier, reading the text with bright eyes. Thoughts no longer on Skylar, but of his other friend, this was when he would take his stuff and make his depart. With a wink at her bemused expression, Joey turned over his shoulder with a squeak of his boots, shuffling towards the door, where Max sat up on his back legs, tail ticking back and forth. On his way, he grabbed his jacket and waved his fingers backwards to her. "I won't be back!" He teased, and she finally allowed herself to roll her pretty eyes at his back.

"I won't be waiting!" She replied in the same tone, and when the door shut with a _clink_, she laughed just on her own. Relaxing into the silence and into her seat, it was quiet, comfortable, and, as the seconds ticked by, she didn't like it at all. Her smile had once more melted down into a belittled frown.

Being in motion was what she was used to, despite how she complained about her life never slowing down. That being said, she grabbed her nice set of keys to go with her locked up desk from her pocket, yanked open the first drawer on the right after freeing it from captivity and darkness, and locked her fingers onto her documents on a new generic kind of sniper rifle. It hadn't even been her work; this was just going to be some light reading.

She would have pulled it out, too, if Max hadn't begun growling, low, deep down in his throat by her side, and a heavy pair of boots made two steps towards her from a more than 75 feet away.

Pupils dilating, just like she had done when she had analyzed the busted gun, somewhere deep inside of Skylar, she sized up the noises and silhouette in the shadows of the other side of the large laboratory without even having to turn over her shoulder. The shoes were familiar: a size 13 in men. This male, alas, had enough bounce on his feet that he had to be lean, but still muscled despite this. Only 5 people had access to this room, and only two of them matched that description. Them, being Lennox, and Gabriel, and it couldn't be Gabriel, due to the fact that Joey had stuttered off to find him.

In a matter of 2 seconds, not enough time for him to move a foot closer, she'd figured out who he was, just by the simple, ballpoint sound of his feet on the floor.

William truly didn't know the _half _of what happen in Specialist Skylar's mind.

"Take another step," She warned in a deep, cautious voice, not realizing that it had even _been _an almost instant evaluation of her surroundings. To her, it was just a quick couple thoughts of the mind, before she began plotting. The thing was: despite her devious little flick of voice, she was really, honestly, _completely_ joking. What she was about to say, she'd never _ever _say to her commander and be serious. But, _he _didn't know that, and _man,_ was she going to scare the actual crap out of him, "and I promise, I'll kill you on spot."

"Skylar?" He had his hands up immediately, stepping from the shadows almost as fast. Especially when he realized she held a loaded gun in her left hand, clicked, locked and loaded. It was pointed straight at him, too, with his big, weary eyes, and for a good moment, she looked as if she'd pull it. Her pointed chin was angled dangerously - Skylar honestly looked menacing, and she was a very hot tempered, trigger-happy woman to say the least. He wasn't looking to get shot today; Sarah would _kill _him if he came home with a bullet hole where his foot should be. Or worse.

And then, just when she began to get light headed from holding her breath, she puffed out air from her mouth and laughed, having to grab the table for support. His face went from somewhat frightened for his well being, to blank, to pissed quicker than it took her to put the handheld down on the edge of the counter top, sift back into the chair and once more prop her feet upon the steel desk. Though he was thoroughly annoyed she had the audacity to point a loaded weapon at him, her Captain, it was a break in her character he didn't think she had.

Was she actually..._smiling_?

"I was joking." She hiccuped through her chortling, pulling her hood's hoodie right over her mass of black hair. Only her beam was visible, not even her nose, and he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't just seeing it wrong in the light. She was really, actually grinning, however. It was bright as day. "Relax."

Lennox finally crossed the empty, sub-hanger to lean against her desk with his pelvic muscles, arms over his chest like he always did when it was time to get more serious about the topic at hand. She didn't see it though, and instead was still in her pathetically wonderful little land of happiness and pride. It was an internal peace she felt in this room; it was everything she loved, and she was allowed to do whatever and tinker with it for as long as she pleased. She had some friends, her dog, and a great Captain. What could be better?

"I wouldn't tease like that." He reminded her with an eyebrow raise and an incline of his head towards the pistol resting in cold at the end of the table. "I was about to run for my money."

Lifting the hood a little, there was almost a childish glitter in her eyes he'd seen before in Annabelle before the little girl did something silly and adorable. Compared to his daughter, Skylar was no where near as innocent, but with this wall down like it was, Lennox could completely see that underneath that mask he and Ratchet had spoken of, there was a free spirited woman who was just a good and kind person. One may never see it again, but right now, she was letting it go. Currently, this young woman also tried to keep her lips in a straight line, but they wavered more than once as she retorted with:

"Good, you need to run."

Putting a hand against his chest, he pretended to be wounded anyways.

"Are you calling me fat?" Questioned William in a droopy voice, lips turning down as she sat back up and threw her hood down. More jubilant snorting followed, and she wagged her eyebrows, closing her journals she'd had opened on the desk from before hand. They had a meeting to attend, didn't they?

"I'm not calling you skinny." Specialist Rosette sing-songed, whistling for Max to follow her to his crate. It was large, a couple bars he could escape through easily if there was ever an emergency. However when he was directed to the box, he would have to stay in there until she gave the okay. It was a trick her father had taught him about staying in the car when he went to investigate, and she'd witnessed first hand what it was like to see Max wiggle through the holes when yelled for. The little soldier knew how to follow orders almost as much as the taller one did. Their only difference, was that Max couldn't talk back.

Lennox, with a more than observing gaze, watched as Ms. Rosette locked up her dog and hurriedly tucked away her key ring that jangled like a song. She appeared completely at ease, unlike the beginning of the week, where he had to almost _literally_ move her muscles with his own bare hands to make her chill out just a little about the new surroundings. Granted, she hadn't really been out of the sleeping bunker, food court, and her lab, for many different reasons, but either way, it was an improvement.

"Settling in fine, then?" He inquired aloud. Quickly, knowing that he was _always _pressed for time, and she shouldn't have kept him waiting, Skylar took a seat on the edge of her chair, leaning over to tie up her boots. As she tightened the calf-high, army laces, her head nodded.

"Mhm."

"You look at those documents I sent you?" He followed up with another question, his words more well picked than before, taking a moment to grab one of the journals upon her desk she had previously closed tight upon his entering. She wasn't watching him directly, but could see it from her peripheral. Her right eye twitched, but she would not deny her officer the right to look at her work either.

"Mhm."

"And?" He pushed her just a little. It hadn't just been _any _measly file he'd had delivered to her, but a full on out-stapled theorem based analysis of a heart ray cannon that had enough power to cut through even the toughest of metals this world and the next had to offer. What they would need it for, she had no idea, however Lennox did. Though she had joined N.E.S.T., Specialist Rosette's assignments had been less than explanatory. Read this paper and give her thoughts, tinker with this until it works again, but nothing that would show what she would really be working on for the basis of her time here, like the heat ray manuscript that had graced her mind.

She didn't fret, despite her lack of knowledge. Though it irked her to be kept out of the loop, a very smart section of her brain reminded her that everything would happen in due time. Jumping right onto a project on her first day would have been a stupid idea, for both her and William, to make. She still didn't know what she would be dealing with, and in reality, neither did Lennox. It would be better to find things within and externally naturally, rather than have it thrust upon her on her first day like it was.

Skylar grabbed open a drawer on her left and grabbed the red folder with the words sprayed in all caps: **CLASSIFIED** across the cover. He recognized it immediately and grit his teeth to suppress a flinch when she smacked it down.

"I finished." She responded in the same tone she had a moment before with her mutters. She braided her hair down her shoulder as he took it and gazed through it, not really hearing her until her words sunk in. She'd finished? Well that was good -

Wait, she had _finished_? A 15 page report not even meant for finish-_ing_? He had only wanted her to look over it and see what she could find, but to, what, fix errors he didn't even, that the Autobots, that is, probably didn't even _realize_ were there? How on Earth had she managed that? Something in his deer-in-the-headlights, wonderstruck expression must have triggered those thoughts in her mind, for she gently placed the folder back on the table from where he had frozen with his eyebrows high, and gave out a cross look at his astonishment.

"Yeah, I, uh, well, finished the night after you handed them over." She slid open the papers, sliding each edited document out for him to take a look at her corrections, in a fan layout as if he was looking at a hand of cards. He braced himself on the edge of the desk, leaning over to scan over where she had marked were all over the place in dark red Sharpie. Her work ranged from words too long to fit on the page that he had never seen before in his life, x's and y's, to 0's and 10 thousands. When his brain felt like it was about to swell, he put his hands up and took a step back, giving in to defeat.

Skylar held in a giggle as she grabbed a tiny little laser pointer from her tool box of things and began directing him in the simplest of ways.

"Your issue was that you had a couple math errors. It was nothing to major, sir." Explained the Specialist, moving to page 6. "Whoever created these documents had the scaling all wrong again, some theorems as well, but nothing extreme that could have blasted a hole in the side of the Earth. I've gotten all the math correct to make that much pressure in a calibrated heat machine, but you had it set as if to equal a 30 foot person, and not someone who averages in at 5'6." She chuckled a little to herself, about to point at another page and continue on with her little debrief just for him, but, to her surprise, Lennox cut her off there with a hand on her shoulder.

So, she _hadn't_ caught on, then, had she? The look in her perplexed eyes confirmed as much. There had been a paranoid part of Will who had immediately started to fear she was coming to realized that there was something abnormally strange with the fact that he'd been giving her page of page of work with 30 foot scales instead of average human. She looked the errors over like a bug on water as simply that, errors, and not something to think and look into. She believed it could be explained by math and science, what they were doing here, and not something exotic and _galactic._

And, in that moment, was when William Lennox realized it was time to tell Skylar the _whole _truth about N.E.S.T. that had been kept disclosed to everyone, even her friends, and not her.

It was time to tell her about the Autobots.

"Skylar," He started delicately, removing his fingers from her shoulders to motion them to her work. He chose his words with precision, wisely, and between a pair of worn down, chapped, pursed lips, "is there any way you could redo it to fit the original scale it was set to?"

Skylar was ultimately silent as she did as told, reaching for her work with a black pen instead. She was just as hesitant as Lennox had been, extremely conflicted on why she had to change it. But, again, she would not argue, for it was right and just. She studied it for half a second, all her math and fine red handwriting, before making large X's in some places over others, multiplying with a heavy duty SI calculator sitting near the lamp and the photo of her family, and finally finished up by capping the Sharpie and turning it all back to him.

She could have said anything, anything at all that would have been normal, but the sassy comment that followed shocked him like an electric prick, and almost her as well.

"Wanna tell me the reason I feel like I'm going to be making 30 foot heat rays?"

He held up a finger to reply when he recovered from being momentarily taken aback, turning on the heel of his boots, simultaneously grabbing a walkee-talkee from his back pocket. He'd reached 100 feet away in just a couple long strides away from her desk, her work, _her._

"Give me a minute." Were his only words, before he opened the door he'd come through to begin with, walked through it, and let it fall to an ajar position in his wake. She could hear the hum of his tone on the other end, but he was too distant for her to pick anything up. Lonely in the awkward silence of her workroom once again, she grabbed a sticky note, and reminded herself to order some sort of music player for this place so she wasn't always left in the quiet when it was just her and Max, like it was now. Maybe she really _could _be somewhat like Abby from NCIS if she tried. Now, she was just Skylar, who gazed at the pup with sad eyes, in which he returned almost equally, squeaking a little chew toy she had in his crate for company.

"Max, I don't know, I think he's gone nuts." Skylar teased the thought of her Captain, crouching in front of the bars. But, could one blame her? She had expected an impressed reaction, but the one she got wasn't one she was ready to take in entirely.

Why had he wanted her to redo her algebra? Was she _really _going to be making something that...extensive? _Could _she make something that complex? So large? Where would she even _begin _to get the power for that? The protective gear?

The German Shepherd sat upright, ears once again tucked back against his forehead. Placing his nose against the cool gate between them, he could sense her anxiety, even if he could figure out why she was this way. The young woman stroked the hair above his nose, to between his eyes. It was calm for not just him, but both of them, as the repetitive motion put her nerves at ease.

"But," She continued, giving his forehead a final scratching, before standing tall on her legs and brushing her hands off on her shorts, "I like this job, and it pays well, so I won't quit on him."

"Have we paid you already?" The voice in the doorway carried her way, making her turn in a circle to gaze in embarrassment and horror. When had he re-entered? Why had she not heard him this time, but the time before instead? Had he heard what she had said? Well, obviously, but why did he even leave in the first place? Where were they going? So many questions, each one being one of the _many_ she had no answer for, but was yearning to know more than anything else in the world. Lennox was watching her, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest._  
_

She mirrored him almost perfectly in stance.

"Not yet, but it better be soon." She stretched her arms out, looking down at what she was wearing - her hand-crafted shorts, a pair of tan army boots, a black zip up jacket, and underneath a white sports bra. She tsked a little, feeling the urge of sarcastic wit for not the first, and not the last time that day. "I've been wearing the same pair of clothes for the last week."

He didn't react, except motion for her to come to his side. When she did, shutting out the blinding white lights above, he ruffled her hair with his hand, expression a deadpan.

"Come with me, and when I'm done explaining, if you still want the job, I'll hand you your check and let you have at it."

She didn't argue.

She just followed him, and followed _orders_, like she always did, and probably always would.

* * *

When she entered the automobile hanger, little did tiny Miss Skylar Rosette know that when she would learn about her _real _job description with N.E.S.T. for the very first time, it would be 100% _nothing _like what she was originally expecting.

For the last 6 days, she'd had a couple theories.

When she was handed her first notebook full of studies on day 2, it had been about designing a simple outer skeleton suit that could reflect a pressure blast of 200 ATM's. She'd felt a little bit like Tony Stark at that moment, creating the Mark 1, but when she realized that the science would be completely impossible for the next 10 years, to create something that small for a human, she'd told them she was unable. Lennox had told her she'd passed whatever test that was, and would be back the next day with more for her to look over - which, he stayed true to his word. So many different ideas poured on in to her study spaces that she had no idea what she was looking for anymore, other than corrections and if it was logical or not.

Trying to figure out what she would be doing with this career was like trying to fit puzzle pieces together of entirely different games: she'd read up on new war processors to tackle tanks with armor made of a metal they couldn't identify (classified), the creation of outrageous biochemicals that could penetrate that same metal (classified), and the affect of radio waves interfering with air jet signatures (classified). She couldn't decide if she was going to help create a new line of armor shredding gun power, chemically active corrosives, and air frequency destroyers. Whatever they wanted her to do, she would do it if she could, but _what it was_ started her first set of problems.

Standing in front of the expensive cars, trucks and motorbikes, she was _nothing _like what she was thinking. What did she have to do with them? What did they have to do with _her?_

Lennox was quick to answer, a friendly face popping up next to him as well. Sebastian's white hair was slicked back with sweat and oil that offset the balance of pale skin, but his smile made everything better. His angled eyes were giving her a mental thumbs up.

"Weapons Specialist Skylar Rosette," Her eyebrows lifted behind her bangs, "may I introduce you, your partners: the Autobots."

Logically, everything she was about to witness was a farce. There were no such things as aliens - NASA could search the universe all they wanted, the cosmonauts could tag along as well, but for now, it seemed they were completely alone. Logically, a GMC Topkick shouldn't shake out like an exhausted dog like her own Max back in her lab, metal grinding as it, or he, stood on two metal legs, shifting and shaping until he was a great warrior in front of her. The rest of the lot shouldn't have done that either, and _logically_, she would have to believe she was hallucinating, this was a prank, or she had completely lost her marbles.

But, _reality _cut in through the logic, and staring her straight in the face were the just as curious faces of the 9 Autobots, as Lennox had called them. Their glowing optics taking in all physical information on her they could get, she couldn't know they were doing it, but she could damn well _feel it_. They documented her black hair, and how it was up in one of those very human knot things called _ponytails, _to the terrified shake of her lip, despite her calm composure. Her green eyes were guarded, unable to read, but her fists were, that had balled into white knuckled clutches. Her entire structure itself was skinny compared to most bodacious humans, however she had some muscle on her arms, calves and thighs from training and gun handling. They watched her suck in little gasps of air, not realizing she was loosing the ability to breathe.

Logically, they weren't real. In reality, they stared her in the face. Irregularly, she didn't pass out.

"She looks as though she's seen a ghost." Sideswipe mused, though Skylar didn't know his name, unlike Lennox who turned his face from watching the Cybertronians transform, to his newest ward. She was sickly pale, a small array of freckles dotting her cheeks he'd never seen before. Slowly, her attentiveness moved from Sideswipe, to one of the little Chevvy Boxes that spoke with a quite difficult to process vocal choice.

"N'aw, lil' honey's just frightened." The Bot had crossed his arms over his chestplates, metal clinking with metal. His twin standing next to him, a Sir Skids to his Mudflap, made a choked laughing noise, nudging his brother like they shared a joke, despite what he said next being an insult:

"Of yo' _face, _ugly."

Mudflap took offense to that instantly, like always, shoving his twin in the arm, rocking him into the tall, still standing yellow Autobot who whirled in distaste for their antics. The tallest of the three's face mask came down with a flick of his head, shifting into place before things got _ugly_ for real.

"You're my _twin, stupid!_" Mudflap reminded the green Bot, shoving him back so that they rocked into the menacing Ironhide. There might have been a wrestling battle in the foreseen and on the way, but to save Ms. Rosette from seeing something that violent upon just meeting them was instantly forbidden over comm. link by their leader, who stood the tallest, eyes displeased. Bumblebee, the yellow Autobot in the center of it all, with his yellow mask locked just in case, grabbed the back of Skid's and Mudlfap's metal skulls. Much to their protest, he knocked their heads together, not unlike what he'd done in Egypt, and turned them forward again to face their guest.

"Thank you, Bumblebee." Lennox ran a hand through his hair, before taking a stand in front of the sniper who had been so entranced and flabbergasted in what she was watching, that she'd forgot that moving her muscles was probably a good thing to do. Not to mention breathing. She hadn't been doing that either. His generally concerned expression zipped her back to reality, and her shoulder blade cracked as she forced herself to release her bunched up nerves. He winced at the noise they could all hear. Secretly, just for himself to gain, Ratchet scanned the bone structure underneath her back tissue, trying to find the center of the ghastly noise they'd all just heard.

William cleared his throat.

"So?" He prompted her to speak. To do _something_. She'd been acting like a statue, or as if she was a porcelain doll; completely still, eyes wide and face flushed with an emotion he couldn't place. Not to mention giving the vibe and position of being _extremely _fragile.

Skylar didn't something none of _them _were expecting, that was for sure.

She started to laugh.

"_Oh my, _ha, this is great, _wow_." She clutched her sides, arms wrapping around herself defensively as her snickers turned sour. Only Sebastian was able to truly see how she backed up her right foot, shuffling away from the entire scene in front of her. It made him frown; he would have rather her take this in with more spirit and perhaps more optimism than how she responded afterwards: "I can't believe this. I'm making weapons for giant _robots_." She'd whisper yelled, more at herself than anyone.

Lennox made a movement to perhaps pat her shoulder or head, but she pointed a finger at him like a weapon. Her amused outlook was dust in the wind, and instead, her green eyes flashed as she advanced her Captain. She would never hurt him, or even touch him, but she could very much bitch in his face like a true Rosette would when given the information she had on her now. He put his hands behind his back, standing still as she took out her frustration through words.

"And you, god _damn it Lennox, _you didn't _think_ you wanted to clue me in on this _one minor detail_ when I was signing up?" She cried out in disbelief, throwing her hands over at the Autobots who were pretty quiet while watching her reaction. "What," Continued the soldier, hands clenching into fists once more, but with a very different emotion attached to them, "were you thinking?"

"Awh, man, she's pissed." Murmured Skids to Mudflap.

"_Very _pissed." Mudflap agreed.

"Zip it, Twins, or Primus help me -" Arcee began from her spot beside Ratchet, but he spoke over all of them, his attention on the woman who was still going off on Will.

"Autonomous robotic organisms from the Planet Cybertron, but you would be half correct."

That shut her up long enough to send her into more frightened chuckles. She put her hands up by her head, the signal for giving up this little tirade of hers. She was so done. _Done._

"Ooo-hoo-hoo, _what, _I'm going _nuts._" She put her hands on the back of her hoodie covered head, turning away to face the wall behind them all. A nice, blank wall, with no towering giant alien robots who wanted her make weapons -

She heard the green Chevvy Box make another joke behind her, and she really tried to ignore this fact, but it sunk into her brain like the Titanic did in the ocean. He was talking. The car was _talking_. _They _were talking. They were _tall_ and _metal _and _alive_ and _talking_. Her shallow breathing increased deeply through her nose to remind her that this was real life, she had asthma, and she had to keep her lungs in check. Reality. Not logic.

Her brain hurt.

"I-I'm insane." She finally concluded, turning to Lennox again. "Or this an illusion. I'm dying. I'm dead?" He shook his head. "Not dead, then _which _is it?"

"None. This is real life." Sebastian replied with a flickering smile, putting his hands on her shoulders from behind and giving a little squeeze. As he turned her to face the Autobots again, Lennox gave the mechanic a look to slow it down and let it process all on her own. Sebastian had originally had his own plan to aid his friend in coming to grips with the Autobots, but backed down and released her under order. "She's taking this better than some people. Remember Staff Sargent Waters?" He piped up, and Mudflap laughed out once.

"That pussy peed 'emself."

His twin fist bumped him.

"Not really. He just fainted." A Mech named Jolt spoke calmly, allowing himself to speak for the first time to the female. It didn't go too well, for she dropped onto her haunches, head between her knees. The Blue Bot winced at her reaction.

"_Ooo_, I'm about to." She admitted, and Lennox shuffled over to pat her back with support. However, she didn't leave the conversation there. No, she would get as much information out of this as she could before she allowed herself to actually freak out to the _extremity _of where her internal levels indicated (Ratchet was still keeping close watch on her, just in case). "Different planet." She repeated the Medical Officer's definition of who they were. "Did you say Planet?"

Arcee nodded her head once.

"You're aliens? Alie - oh my, I can't breathe." She finally stood back up, taking a couple steps away from both Sebastian and Lennox, who moved to help her. She threw her hands out, a signal for them to stay where they were, especially as she scuffed towards the exit a couple steps.

"Perhaps you should sit. Do you need your inhaler?" Will suggested lightly.

"Just," She swallowed, giving herself the opportunity to gaze at the Autobots from the corner of her eye, "just give me a couple minutes, okay?"

And then like that she was gone, only the sound of her boots squeaking on the ground any indication that she didn't dissolve into thin air.

"Well, that went well." Ironhide laughed darkly under his breath, while Lennox made the mandatory call to keep the place under lock down until he was positive Skylar wouldn't leave base until allowed. There had been too many mishaps where someone had learned the truth and tried to flee, so until he was positive she wouldn't make a break for it, he had to keep the place secure of breach.

There was a moment of silence.

Then -

"What in the name of God! - is this inhaler?" Bumblebee's external radio questioned curiosly, innocently, almost like a wondering child.

Sebastian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

**TTTA:**

**How will Skylar react after meeting the Autobots? How will they react to _officially _meeting her? **

* * *

**NCP:**

**Skylar will have to come to grips with what she had signed up for, or quit her career dream and be sworn to secrecy for the rest of her life.**

* * *

**Ta-ta for now!**


End file.
